First Cut
by Butterfly Harvester
Summary: Ronald has his female friends at the office.  Grell is a wild flirt.  What about sensible William's love life?
1. Chapter 1

_Title: First Cut_

_Summary: Ronald has his female friends at the office. Grell is a wild flirt. What about sensible William's love life?_

_I had this come to mind after watching the OVA about William. While it was not subbed and I had hardly any idea what it was talking about, it did inspire me and get me to thinking of a girl for William, specifically when Ronald is flirting with one of the female workers. _

_I know William is Grell's "true love" and I really adore the WilliamxGrell pairing, it is a guilty pleasure of mine, but I wanted to try to challenge myself to write a William story and this is what I have so far. I worry about them being out of character, but I will give it my best. _

Chapter 1

It was only 10:30 in the morning and William T. Spears was rapidly developing a headache. He had been given orders by his higher-ups to show a batch of fresh graduates from the Shinigami academy around the office. That in itself was no problem. Unless of course one had the flamboyant Grell Sutcliff following every step they made, flirting the entire way.

"That tour took forty minutes too long," William mumbled to himself as he checked his watch. He hated wasting time. He reached the elevator banks, intending to go to his office. Pushing the button to summon the elevator using his death scythe, a pruning pole, he let out a sigh.

His hopes of his day not remaining as it started were dashed when the elevator reached him. He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see who was rushing his way. It was Ronald Knox, a younger Shinigami who did respect William but was a little wild.

_'Not as bad as Grell though,' _William thought, holding the doors to the elevator open with his scythe.

"Thanks, William," Ronald said, sliding into the elevator with a nod to his superior.

_'And he doesn't call me 'Will'.'_

"Where you are heading?"

"My office."

"Ah," Ronald said with a smile, "Grell bothering you?"

Narrowing his yellow eyes, William glanced sideways at Ronald. Ronald was leaning nonchalantly against the back wall of the small space, his arms crossed behind his head and a faint smile on his face. "Did you put him up to that madness this morning?"

Ronald let out a laugh. "I don't _have _to put him up to it, William. Grell does what he does."

_'An adequate summary.'_

What was Ronald saying? William cleared his thoughts to listen to the partly blonde Shinigami.

" – can possibly stop him if you start dating someone. You would hurt him, but it could work to get him to leave you alone. I can introduce you to one of the girls in General Affairs. It would help if I knew your type, though."

William raised an eyebrow but said nothing. The elevator finally came to a stop, after what seemed like several dragging hours to William, at the fourth floor. Straightening his glasses, William stepped off the elevator. He expected Ronald to continue to one of the higher floors to find something female to flirt with, but Ronald followed him out into the hallway.

The older Shinigami did not speak until he reached his office, the small gold plate beside the door with _William T. Spears _carved on it winked at William in the bright sunlight streaming through the window. _'Sanctuary,' _William thought. _'Just ten minutes of peace, quiet, and no Grell Sutcliff is all I ask.' _

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his key. Ronald leaned against the wall and looked as though he was studying William. The air of _leave me alone! _that William was trying to give off did not seem to reach him. Suddenly, he straightened up, his attention on something behind William.

William turned slightly to see what had caught Ronald's attention. Coming down the hall was Bartholomew Daniels, one of the highest ranking Shinigami, well over William's status. At his side was a woman William had not seen before.

Her long black hair was tied back in a braid. Like all Shinigami, she had yellow irises, green pupils, and wore glasses. She was dressed neatly in a suit and tie, a silver tie pin matching her silver glasses and small silver stud earrings.

William vaguely wondered if it was the presence of Bartholomew or if it was this woman that had caught Ronald's attention.

"William, Ronald, this is Annabelle Sims," Bartholomew began. "Right now she is working as a typist," he said, indicating the files she held, "but I might send her to reap with you, William. Would you be willing to train her if she chooses?"

William looked her over quickly. She was dressed perfectly, no dress code violations in sight. The way she held herself was calm, nothing like the wild younger Shinigami and Grell. He nodded, satisfied that she might be one to actually follow the rules.

"Excellent. Right now though she has your assignments." Annabelle smiled faintly at the two of them before shifting through the files she held in her hand.

"Mr. Spears," she said, offering him a file. It took her a bit longer to find Ronald's assignments but she offered them to him as a well with a simple, "Mr. Knox."

"Ronald." he told her.

She smiled again, and added, "We were told these were no hurry but you might want to start shadowing these people soon enough. I'll see you gentlemen later."

With that she and Bartholomew headed for the elevators, no doubt off to give out more assignments.

Ronald looked at William over his glasses, something that William missed due to his looking through his assigned death list. "A stickler for rules, it seems. How about her, William?"

"Hmph." William shut his file and opened his office door, shutting it deftly behind him.

"Just ask and I'll set it up!" Ronald called from the hall.

With a sigh, William sank down behind his desk. He leaned back in his simple black chair and began to massage his temples. More than once he had considered asking for a transfer. More than once he had decided against it, knowing full well there was a demon in the area. He also felt it was his place to watch out for the demon, Sebastian Michaelis. The two had met more than once, and William would not allow him to feast on any souls he was meant to take.

After several quiet moments of mediation, William again grabbed his death list and looked it over. With his headache dulled, he felt it was time to try to get to work.


	2. Chapter 2

_First Cut_

_I'm glad that people are enjoying this! I cannot promise a massive length story but I do hope you continue to enjoy it. I can just see William and Annabelle going after Ronald and Grell, demanding that they follow the RUUUURUUUUS! In my head they really remind me of Scanty and Kneesocks._

_And don't take anything the wrong way. I really love Grell but it's a little fun being mean to him!_

_Chapter 2_

It was getting late in the day and William was ready to get a move on. He had picked a young woman, an Emily Miller, to follow. As her name was one of the first on his assigned list of souls to collect, he felt it would be the best place to start.

On his way out he passed Grell Sutcliff. Despite knowing he should just continue walking and pretending that he had never seen the red eyesore, he stopped. "What are you doing?"

Grell jumped in surprise. He had been leaning in front of a gold plaque, doing his hair in front of his makeshift mirror. "A girl has to look her best, Will!" he cooed.

Looking at the redheaded reaper over his glasses, William pointed out that there were plenty of mirrors in the building and that it made no sense to use a wall plaque when there were mirrors available.

Grell waved his remarks off with a gloved hand. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?" Grell asked, now making model-like faces towards his golden reflection. He winked once at his image and then turned his attention fully to William.

William stowed his death list in an inside pocket of his suit. "I have a job to do, Grell. As do you."

Grell placed his hands on his hips and sighed, blowing a strand of red hair away from his face. "Will," he began, "you are aware that we can do more than work, right?"

"I am," William told him. He scowled at Grell, opening his mouth to add something he had longed to say to Grell Sutcliff for quite some time. His mouth shut once he heard the sound of a throat clearing.

"Mr. Spears." Annabelle had come up behind the two of them and was standing at William's elbow. "I have received clearance from Mr. Daniels that I may "shadow" you on this assignment. Is that any issue with you?" she asked.

Grell watched her warily. Why was William getting a protege? A female protege at that. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned slightly. _'She's as stuffy as Will,' _he thought. _'That must be why.' _Still, he did not like it.

"I have no problems with it."

As William and Annabelle began to leave, Grell quickly formed an idea and jumped into action. "Wait, Will! How about I _shadow _you instead?" He whispered the word "shadow", his eyes twinkling with a small plot.

Before William could reply, Annabelle asked Grell, "Don't you have demons to chase?" Grell blinked at her, a confused expression on his face. "We have all heard about 'Sebast-chan'. Surely you know this."

Grell stood in the hallway fuming long after William and Annabelle had left. He reached into the pocket of his red jacket, pulling out his own assigned death list. "Maybe," he told himself, "I have an assignment near Will." With a small laugh to himself, Grell hurried out the door, wanting to make sure no woman came between him and _his _Will!

William and Annabelle, meanwhile, were in the heart of London near a small wooden inn. Emily Miller worked there during the day and slept in a small room in the attic. According to her file, she was living with a friend of her mother's as she and her parents had quarreled over the man she had dated.

The relationship did not last but Emily did not seem ready to go back to her parents.

The two of them were perched atop the building beside the inn, watching for any sign of the young woman. "It's a shame, really."

"Hmm?" William turned to Annabelle, nearly forgetting she had joined him. She had been silent the entire time, hanging onto the information she herself had typed up about Emily. William had watched her as she put on gloves to handle the papers, not wanting her ink-smudged fingertips to ruin the pages.

At that moment, she was perched on the chimney, the files spread out on her lap. She pointed to the paper, complete with a picture of their light-haired target. "She's not going to see her family again is she?"

"It is not our place to worry about that."

"I know. It is our job to go in, review her cinematic record, determine whether or not she lives or dies, write our reflection letter, and call it a day. All of that," she said, shutting the folder, "while remaining neutral."

"It will get easier. Have you never reaped before?"

Annabelle answered with a sort of half shrug. "We did do simulations of sorts in our classes. The idea, though, of a dozen of us following our teachers as they did their job was determined to be too..." she broke off, searching for the right word. "Obvious?" she asked. Despite it not being the word she had wanted, William nodded in understanding.

"It will get easier," he said again.

"Oh, isn't that her?" He looked in the direction Annabelle was pointing. From the back of the inn emerged a young woman, most likely in her late teens or early twenties. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a bun, a basket of laundry balanced against her hip. They could faintly make out the sounds of her humming as she strung sheets on a line to dry.

At William's nod, the two leaped from the roof, landing in the alley below. Peering through holes in the wooden fence that surrounded the inn, the two reapers exchanged looks. William saw Annabelle move out of the corner of his eye. His lips twitched to a near smile as he realized she was making sure the training scythe he had acquired for her was still on her person.

"Wait," he told her. She nodded.

It was as though Emily sensed their presence. She turned, looking around, seeming to feel two sets of eyes on her. "Hello?" she called. "Is anyone there?" Of course the woman received no response. She wrapped her arms around herself, holding herself and feeling a strange chill.

Emily no longer took care in hanging the sheets. She grabbed them as fast as she could, pinning them so they hung wildly. When the last sheet was up, she grabbed her basket and hurried up the back steps. Despite her slam of the door, the two Shinigami could hear her telling someone inside about an odd feeling she had.

"Was that our chance?" Annabelle asked, her hand resting against the small scythe under her suit jacket.

"You'll know."

Hours passed. It became clear that Emily was reluctant to head outside. As the sun started to set she finally reappeared at the front door, a piece of paper in her hands.

"Go on," a young man was saying, "we need those for breakfast tomorrow, hurry and get them."

"Are you sure you won't come, Reggie?" she asked.

Reggie chuckled. "There are no monsters. Nothing is lurking in the alley waiting to pounce. Well," he added with a smile, "if you hurry back it won't."

Emily whimpered and rushed down the stairs and down the road. She glanced down at the shopping list in her hand. Why had no one taken her suggestion of growing a small garden in the backyard? There was room for a garden, the clothing line, and possibly a small herb garden.

Unbeknownst to her, William and Annabelle were following her at a distance. William felt he knew what Annabelle was thinking. The silly girl should have learned to pay attention.

The road was full of people making their way to the market for dinner and hurrying home after work. Emily was jostled this way and that as she still stared at the list, her feet taking her where she needed to go.

When Emily finally chose to look up, it was too late. A small boy, clutching tightly to the food in his hands, was running from a bearded man, his apron stained, a large wooden spoon held in his hand. He shouted at the crowd to stop the boy, claiming he had stolen from his shop while he was signing for a new shipment of spices.

The boy knocked into Emily, sending her backwards. The man, going too fast to really stop himself, barreled into her, sending her crashing into the brick building behind her. The crowd of people, confused and unsure of whether or not to help her or the man chasing the boy, allowed the two reapers to slip in, William to cut Emily with his death scythe, and the two to slip into the shadows under an awning to review her memories and also keep an eye on her.

The two were greeted by the sight of an infant girl crying and shaking her fists. The scene changed to a small party, the blonde girl in a pink frilly dress as she observed her cake. Again the scene changed. The girl, now older, was in the yard with a man they assumed was her father. The two were grooming a horse and laughing. She grew older. Wearing a plain blue dress, she stood in front of her parents with a young man. The four argued and the girl stormed out. The last moment they saw was Emily's fear of something watching her and waiting as she hung up the bedsheets of the inn.

William calmly took the files from Annabelle. "Emily Miller, age nineteen. Blonde hair, grey eyes, an only child. Ran away from home at age 18. Today is June 14th, 1889. Cause of death: head trauma. No further notes." Annabelle handed him a small stamp. Once he stamped _Complete _on the page, Emily Miller moved no more. Without another word, the two Shinigami headed back to the office to file their reflection letter and report.


	3. Chapter 3

_First Cut_

_I hope Grell doesn't come off as too desperate or clingy. I just think he would feel threatened even if a biological female wasn't specifically "moving in on his territory" but was on his territory so to speak. I have to say, I realize how some of my dialog can be considered to have a double meaning, and I have to say I'm finding it a little funny myself._

_Chapter 3_

William had taken Annabelle with him twice more on his reaping jobs that week. He felt incredibly satisfied that she was nothing like the outrageous Grell or the somewhat child-like Ronald. She was ready to get in, get her job done, and go about the next one. She loathed overtime.

Why, she reminded William a little of himself.

His final task of the week was an elderly man who lived alone in a small house that was nearly falling apart. Due to the man's age and location, he planned to assign the task of collecting his soul to Annabelle, feeling she could handle an easy task such as that.

He left his office that afternoon, the folder of their target under his arm. Annabelle, he knew, would most likely be typing up the next week's death lists with the other typists. Before he could even reach the elevator banks, the sound of heels clicking and a flirtatious "William~!" reached his ears.

He scowled, exhaled loudly from his nose and turned to face Grell. "Grell, I need to leave. What do you need that no one else can assist you with?"

Grell's yellow eyes flicked to the profile tucked under William's arm and then up to his face. He chuckled softly and linked his arm with William's. "Excellent, I'll join you! I finished my list for the week so I'm free as can be."

With a hardly audible sigh, William used his death scythe to nudge the red-clothed reaper away from him. "I plan to take Annabelle with me."

"Why?" Grell demanded. "I'm much more experienced than she is!"

Fully freeing himself from Grell's grasp, William straightened his glasses and headed towards the elevator banks. After he stepped inside the first one available, he looked back and caught Grell sulking like a small child, pouting with his arms crossed over his chest.

Before William could make a smart remark, the doors shut and he was alone until he reached the first floor. Ronald and a woman William recognized as being from General Affairs approached him on their way out.

"Going for your protege?" Ronald asked with a wink. William frowned at him but gave no response as he brushed past them and down the long hallway, following the sounds of typewriters clacking loudly.

Annabelle was primly seated in her chair, the third closest to the door. She finished what she was typing and gingerly removed the papers, careful not to smudge them. A frown formed at her mouth as she glanced at her ink-stained fingertips. With a sigh, she removed the spent ink ribbon from the typewriter and pulled out a fresh one. Before she could change ribbons and start again, William tapped her on the shoulder with his death scythe.

"Hmm?" She glanced over her shoulders, offering a small smile to William as she spotted him still at the door. She held up one finger and grabbed a scrap of paper, taking the time to write a note to her superior, who knew she had Bartholomew Daniels' permission to leave with William. The note went on top of the lists and profiles she had completed and was placed in the _Out _tray on her desk.

The two did not speak until they were on the way to 131 Chester Street. "Do you think you can handle this?" William asked, handing the profile of Edward Benning to her.

"Me?" she asked, tucking the folder under her elbow as she removed her black gloves from her pocket and put them on. When he nodded, she asked, "Do you really think I should? I would hate to do something wrong and get you in any sort of trouble."

William actually found himself laughing at that. "Bartholomew knows you are with me. If there is any trouble, he will certainly understand. But," he added, "I think you can handle this. You're more capable than you realize." He pulled the short wooden wand from inside his suit, the retractable blade coming out as he did. With a flick of his wrist, the blade went back into the handle and he handed the trainer scythe to her.

"He is an old man," William continued, "and as we do not have to wait for chance to happen, it will be quick."

"I've only seen you collect three souls."

William raised his hand to shush her uncertainty. "You can do this."

She bit her lip but said nothing more as the two found themselves in front of a small house. The shutters were falling off, the windows were stained and dirty. A pot holding an unidentifiable plant sat cracked on the sagging front steps. William put his hand on her shoulder and gently pushed Annabelle towards the steps.

The porch creaked and groaned under their weight as they peered inside. The inside of the little house was not much better than the outside. It appeared to only have the one room. Dishes were stacked inside a wooden tub, ready to be cleaned. Clothing hung from a line strung from one wall across to the other. A bedroll was placed near the small fireplace and Edward Benning himself was fast asleep in a sagging chair, a black and white cat curled up on his lap.

Annabelle looked at William, her face unsure. He nodded, taking the papers from her. She nodded herself, almost to reassure herself that William was right. She gripped the scythe in her hand and placed her other on the doorknob.

Despite the state of the house, the door opened soundlessly. It shut behind them without waking the man or his cat.

"Do I need to wake him?" she whispered. William shook his head.

The cat chose that moment to stretch and yawn. At the sight of the Shinigami, her back arched and she began to hiss.

"Now, now..." her owner mumbled sleepily, stroking her back. She hissed again and leaped from her comfortable place and hide under a small stool, her tail twitching this way and that.

The sound of the blade coming from the small wooden rod sounded louder than it should have. With one last glance at William, Annabelle made a slash with it across Edward's chest. Reels of film wrapped around the blade. The two of them were treated to the sights of Edward as an infant, a child, a happy young man on his wedding day. Several years of wedded bliss were cut off by a horseback riding accident. Edward seemed to stay alone the rest of his life, devoting his time to work, friends, and a stray cat or two.

"Edward Benning, age sixty-three. White haired, green eyes, youngest of three children. Mother was a duchess who married a commoner. Married but lost his wife at age thirty-one. Today is June 20th, 1889. No further notes." William stamped the file _Complete _and turned his attention to Annabelle. "You see?" he added, shutting the folder with finality.

She smiled fainted and touched her hand to his. "Thank you," she said softly, "I really appreciate this."

He nodded. "I will certainly tell Bartholomew myself how well you handled this."

"It was easy," she told him, "don't make me sound like a hero or anything."

As they left, a black and white streak shot across the room and out the door, knocking the plant over. The sound of the pot shattering caused Annabelle to wince, but she quickly regained her composure. The two spoke no more as they returned to the office.

The two went their separate ways once they arrived. Annabelle went back to her typewriter to type her letter of reflection. William would type his after he had words with Bartholomew Daniels.

Bartholomew was in his office, reading over reports from the several Shinigami that answered to him. He glanced up at William's knock and called, "Come in. Ah, William," he said, rising to greet him. "Anything wrong?"

William handed the folder to Bartholomew. "I wanted to tell you I allowed Annabelle Sims to handle this case personally. I felt it would be an easy task for her. She did very well. We had no issues, save for a hissing cat."

Bartholomew took the papers from William and nodded. "That was a wise decision William. I knew you would keep a watchful eye over her and that she would give you no trouble." He laughed. "It's a welcome change isn't it?"

"Quite. Would you answer one thing for me, though?" Bartholomew, a curious expression on his face, nodded. "Why is she a typist?"

With a shrug, William was told, "You'll have to ask her that yourself." William nodded, making a note to do that as soon as he had the chance.


	4. Chapter 4

_First Cut_

_I had originally wanted that last chapter to end on a different note. I had wanted to include Grell and have him wake Edward up and this whole argument come about ending with either William or Annabelle telling Grell that they were "supposed to reap this man three minutes ago!" I thought ahead and traded the idea for this chapter. I want to give something funny while still keeping the serious side going._

_I know glasses are important to a Shinigami, and I think William explains why in that OVA but it was not subbed when I watched so I don't know what he says. I personally think they can remove their glasses to clean them but if that is proven wrong with the subbed OVA then I apologize for that. I have heard that removing them is to resign according to the musical but I don't know if that would really be considered canon. Don't think of this as a rant! I promise it makes sense._

_Chapter 4_

Grell Sutcliff wandered down the hall of the Shinigami offices, trying to look as innocent and inconspicuous as someone dressed nearly in all red could look around his dark suited peers. The sound of his heeled boots were soon muffled by the ever present _clack clack clack _of typewriters as he neared the typists' room. With a quick glance down the hall, he made sure he was alone before poking his head through the door.

"Aha!" he whispered to himself, spotting Annabelle. He crossed the room and stood behind her, unnoticed by anyone in the room.

"I haven't finished typing your weekly list, Mr. Sutcliff." Annabelle told him, without looking up at him. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Miss."

"What?"

"Miss Sutcliff, Belle."

"It is Annabelle, _Mr. _Sutcliff." She pulled the sheet of paper she had been typing on out of the machine and placed a fresh one back in. Before she could type out the assigned reaper's name, Grell politely reached over and plucked out the ink ribbon. "Put that back!" she hissed, drawing the attention of her nearby coworkers.

Tossing it casually in one hand, Grell remarked, "Have you ever considered typing with red ink?"

"It is not my place to pick and choose colors!"

"What a pity," Grell sighed. "I would love for my lists be typed in red ink."

"Well then," Annabelle said, reaching for her ribbon, "you will have to take that up with – " Her sentence ending with a faint choking sound as Grell "accidentally" let the ribbon fall on her finished lists, leaving them an inky blue mess.

"Do you have any idea," she began, her voice shaking, "how much overtime that is going to make for me? You incompetent – "

"Ah, ah, ah," Grell said, shaking his finger at her. "It was an accident."

"If that was an accident then I am the Queen herself!" Annabelle spat. She looked forlornly at the mess she would have to retype. She took a deep breath and told herself to ignore Grell Sutcliff as best as possible. Settling back in her chair, she reached for a fresh ribbon and a new stack of paper.

"Allow me."

"Don't!"

Grell snatched the ribbon from Annabelle and tried to reset the typewriter. Within a blink of an eye, the failed attempt to replace the ribbon turned into a miniature ink bomb. Annabelle, Grell, and several others nearby were suddenly coated with blue ink splatters.

Grell took in the scene before him and began to laughing, revealing his sharp, pointed teeth. "I must say, you all look a little better with makeup!"

Annabelle glared at him as best as she could through her ink covered glasses.

"Reaper Sutcliff, explain yourself!" Grell turned sheepishly towards the door at the sound of Bartholomew. It was not only Bartholomew, but William and two others that held authoritative powers.

Grell then turned on his best attempt at charm. He tossed an arm over Annabelle's shoulders and said, "I was just helping my friend Anna here. Those ink ribbons, they can be very tricky!"

"Annabelle!" she hissed through clenched teeth. To her bosses, she added, "There was no "help" to it." She pointed to the mess of soul collection lists on her table and of those nearby. "That was deliberate but I certainly could not tell you why! Perhaps _Mr. _Sutcliff gets some form of thrill making others work overtime."

She and the rest of the inky workers were allowed to leave and clean up as best as they could. They padded through the hall, leaving blue footprints as they did. \

After an hour in Bartholomew's office, Grell dragged himself out only to be met in the hall by William. "Will," Grell began innocently, "you aren't going to punish me too, are you?"

William crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Grell over his glasses. "Explain yourself," he demanded. "And I expect honesty. You have never stepped foot in that station before. In fact, you have made efforts to avoid that room like the plague."

Grell stood fidgeting, looking down at his feet. William surely understood Grell's reason for bothering Annabelle. He was a smart man, after all.

Certain he was going to get no answer, William said, "You should be retyping those lists yourself. Be grateful with the punishment you did get. I would also be taking your scythe and leaving you with a dull bread knife."

Grell winced. He had only been banned from being anywhere near the typing area after he cleaned the entire room himself. William, it was clear, felt that was not enough punishment. "I am sorry, Will," he said as William turned to leave the hall.

William said nothing to that apology. He was furious. Grell had done things before to get his attention, but that was a new one. It seemed like he would have to keep a closer watch on Grell, especially with Annabelle around.

Outside of his office, Annabelle was waiting for him. She had changed into a fresh suit, her hair still damp from being washed, her face and glasses ink free. "Mr. Spears, your list wasn't ruined by Mr. Sutcliff. Here," she pulled it from inside her suit jacket and handed it to him.

"I apologize," he began, taking the stack of papers from her.

She shook her head. "You don't have to apologize for that thing. Maybe he should be put on a leash."

"He is not allowed to bother you while you work." William opened his office door and motioned for her to follow him inside. After shutting the door behind her, he added, "I would hope if you are with me he will know better."

He spread the typed sheets out on his desk and settled himself in his chair. Annabelle took the chair across from him. The two sat reviewing the obligated souls and making plans for the week ahead of them. Annabelle expressed great interest in a double homicide, smiling as William agreed to take her with him for that.

Once their plan was in order for the week, William sorted the papers in the order and stacked them on the corner of his desk. "Thank you."

Annabelle stood and bowed slightly. "Thank you for agreeing to take me along. I imagine it mustn't be easy to have someone so inexperienced following you around."

"You've fallen into step very easily. And you're much more behaved than some people." The two exchanged small smiles. As Annabelle turned to leave, William asked, "Annabelle, one more thing?"

"Yes?" she asked, facing him again. 

"Why do you choose to type?"

Annabelle looked slightly taken aback by the question. "I was told there is a shortage for death list typists. I know that is something I can handle. I have been interested in reaping but I thought typing would be a better use for me."

"Anyone can type out death lists. People just don't want to because they find it 'dull'." William dismissed her with a wave, giving her time to think about what he had just told her.


	5. Chapter 5

_First Cut_

_I have to admit I'm not as happy with the last chapter. But it ended well to me. Anywho, Grell was trying to make sure Annabelle had some overtime. The ink mess wasn't in his plans. _

_I don't know when my next chapters will be up as I will have company this weekend but Monday for sure if I don't get anything up Saturday or Sunday._

_Chapter 5_

The sky was full of grey, fat rainclouds threatening to let a small flood free. Thunder rumbled in the distance as William and Annabelle set out on the double homicide task. As far as William could tell, she was trying her best to keep her demeanor calm while fighting the curiosity she was feeling.

Instead of hunting for their quarry, they chose to lay in wait at the scene of the crime and deaths. Shrubbery and trees hid the former barn from curious eyes. It had not housed a horse in years, but it did house seedy members of London's underground.

They slipped inside and crept down to the last stall. The door opened with a creak, the sound surprising a small mouse. It slipped away through a crack in the wall.

Their hiding spot was not being used to push drugs or house some other crime. It was the only one that closely resembled a horse's stall. Moldy straw little the floor, an empty water trough sat in the corner. Saddles and blankets were piled in another corner. Annabelle crossed her arms over the waist high door and appeared to take in her surroundings.

"Not much for criminals are they?" she asked.

"You say that as though you know several."

"It's all those lists I typed up I suppose. Most of the criminals I've typed out deaths for have been killed by Scotland Yard or taken out by rival thugs." She shrugged her shoulders casually and grew silent.

A pitter-patter reached their ears. Without a word the two Shinigami looked towards the cobwebbed ceiling. The rainclouds clearly had made up their minds about setting the rain free.

For nearly an hour the rain was the only sound in the barn. Finally the sounds of footsteps sloshing through the mud outside and voices reached them. William ducked back into the shadows, pulling Annabelle with them. They did not need to worry about hiding as the three men slammed the door of the first stall with a creaky thud.

Annabelle stifled a yawn as the rain muffled the shouts of one of the men. He certainly must be the leader, upset at the two destined to die for some reason or another.

William checked his watch. Things did appear to be on time at that moment. The men would bicker and two would be stabbed. It was a routine he had seen before and would most likely see again.

The arguing reached a climax. Words and phrases along the lines of "late shipments", "profits aren't where they should be", and "keeping some for yourselves" met the pair lurking at the end of the barn. Annabelle raised an eyebrow at William. After checking his watch again, he put a gloved finger to his lips and lead her out of the stall. As the door shut behind them, a short, squat man in a brown overcoat left the barn, tucking something under his jacket as he tried his best to run away in mud.

The scene of the confrontation was not as gruesome as Annabelle thought it would be. One of the men lay on the floor by the far wall, his gaze seemed to be beyond the two Shinigami, blood puddling under him. The other lay bleeding, hunched over a stack of several nondescript brown sacks.

In one swift motion, William twirled his death scythe, slicing both men open with either end. "Nice," Annabelle told him, a hint of surprise in her voice.

William pointed to the man bleeding through the sacks. He then handed her the file of Barnaby Nichols. She nodded, reviewing the man's cinematic records. There was nothing interesting to note about the twenty-nine year old man who had spent years running drugs for his father before going into his own life of crime. She stamped his entry on the death list _Complete _and tossed the stamp to William, who caught it easily behind his back.

With their job completed, the reapers exited the barn, the completed papers tucked safely away inside William's suit. "You know," Annabelle began, rain falling on their faces, "I almost expected you to pull out two stamps to do some amazing double stamp trick after that dual cut."

"I am not a show off." William pushed his slipping glasses back in place with his scythe.

"I know."

As they walked back to the office, the only two people on the streets as the rains fell, William asked, "Are you ready to give up your typing job?"

She looked at William, surprise on her face. "Do you really think I should?"

William stopped and stared at her. "I think you have the ability to reap. You have caught on to what is needed to be done very quickly. Don't tell me the lack of willing typists is holding you back. I can assign someone else to your place."

"Who, Grell?" Annabelle asked with a smile.

"I rather prefer your leash idea for Grell."

To his surprise, Annabelle laughed. "You're right, William. If he were to try to type up death lists, maybe one a week would be done. On a good week."

"Then the leash it is."

They resumed walking, the rain beginning to let up. Little bits of sunlight were trying their hardest to peer through the clouds. William had the feeling that Annabelle wanted to speak so he waited for her to say what was on her mind.

"I'd love to do what you do. I just have one problem with it." She pulled off her glasses and started to clean the rain from them.

"You are stalling," William told her. "What bothers you about the idea of being a reaper?"

"I don't want to work alone." she softly.

This response surprised William. With a small nod, he said, "I will see what I can do about that."


	6. Chapter 6

_First Cut_

_She has gotten used to William hasn't she? Or attached, whichever word you prefer._

_Chapter 6_

William was silent as he sat across from Bartholomew Daniels. Bartholomew was reviewing several stacks of paper William had filled out in order to add Annabelle to the ranks of reapers.

"You say she's been a quick learner?"

William nodded. "She has been both quiet and attentive. I haven't had any hint of an issue with her."

"Then I must say I see no issues with this." Bartholomew pulled out a stamp and a fountain pen. He began to stamp the forms and signed others. He slid them over to William and added, "I just need you to sign this one." William obliged and rose to his feet.

He waited as Bartholomew reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a small stack of papers. "She needs to fill these out for her death scythe and then she may go from there."

Tucking the forms under his arm, William added, "There is one more thing. She mentioned she does not like the idea of working alone."

Bartholomew studied William over his glasses for a second or two, then he said, "If that is the case, I see no reason she shouldn't continue to work with you for a time. If you agree to it, that is. If not, I can find someone else for her."

William bowed slightly. "I would agree to that."

He left Bartholomew's office a moment later, having signed another form stating that Annabelle would become his responsibility. He just needed to find Annabelle.

When he did find her, she was seated next to Ronald Knox. Whatever Ronald was saying to her, she was shaking her head 'no' over. "Sorry," she was saying as William stepped closer, "I'm just not a night owl."

Ronald shrugged. "Maybe you'll change your mind. It's usually a wild time."

The two glanced up as William approached. "Ronald, I need to speak with Annabelle for a moment."

Ronald got to his feet, saying as he did, "OK, OK, I can take a hint." William glared at him as Ronald waved and walked away, chuckling as he did.

"He wasn't bothering you, was he?"

Annabelle shook her head. "No, he was just mentioning a party tonight. It's not really something that appeals to me."

"Hmm," William handed her the papers for her death scythe and a pen. Together, they sat and filled out the information required.

As she signed her name one last time, she told William, "I don't want anything too fancy. I just want something that gets the job done."

William nodded his understanding. "As do I."

Annabelle received a simple, basic death scythe, a double edged pruning pole like William's. After saying her thanks to the blonde issuing scythes, Annabelle turned to William. "And now what?"

"Now you train." Leading her to the Shinigami training grounds, he added, "Right now you will be sharing office quarters with those who have just graduated. Those who do their jobs right, and I believe you can do that, will get their own offices."

The training grounds turned out to be a very spacious area in the basement of the building. It was sectioned off into rooms, each with a different theme in mind. One was a simple, brightly lit room with several dummy targets inside. One was dimly light, to simulate a nighttime job. There were even weather rooms, complete with rain or snow.

"Not everything will be set up perfectly," William told her as Annabelle readied herself in the brightly light room. "Often you will come across weather or any other form of hazard."

"Thanks for sharing that!" Annabelle swung her scythe, hitting the nearest dummy. The insides, it turned out, were filled with straw and spent film reels.

"It isn't that clean either."

"Now that I know."

Soon enough, Annabelle was handling her scythe with ease. She did not have as much grace or speed as William and still had a little difficulty using both ends at once but she could use it and that was a start.

Panting slightly, she finally said, "I think I've gotten at least some basics down."

William, leaning against the wall, crossed his arms over his chest. "I've always found this too easy. The best training is to actually collect a soul. So, on our next assignment I think I will sit back and leave everything to you."

"You can't be serious!"

William's expression read nothing but serious."I will only be there to help if you find yourself in a situation you cannot handle."

With that, he started to walk off. She stared at him, her mouth slightly open in surprise. He turned back to her and asked, "Coming? We need to determine whose soul you'll be collecting."

Annabelle sighed softly and shook her head. She had the feeling that her first actual job as a Shinigami might not go as well as William planned.


	7. Chapter 7

_First Cut_

_I do not know how far I'm going to delve into the Kuroshitsuji universe. I really don't know if I'll be including much of Sebastian or Ciel. I'm thinking about it though._

_Is it just me or are the people they're reaping all sad cases?_

_Chapter 7_

"I am only going along with you to observe and act should you find yourself in a situation you cannot handle. Try to remember that."

William and Annabelle were in his office, gathering what was needed on her first attempt at reaping a soul. She had half thought he was not being serious until they reached his office. He handed her the pages she would need and the _Complete _stamp. Juggling them and her death scythe for a moment, she pocketed the papers and stamp.

"Basically, I am not allowed to ask for advice. I just have to go with whatever happens?"

William nodded. "Once we leave the building I will be of no help to you unless you absolutely need it."

"I can't even ask questions?"

"You shouldn't need to."

Annabelle shook her head in disbelief. Sure, she had expected this moment to come but so soon? Squaring her shoulders, she tried to convince herself that she would not need William but he would be right there should she need him.

Her false confidence all but vanished as they stepped into the bright sunlight outside. William walked two steps behind her as she started her way towards the seedy East End of London.

"You really aren't going to speak to me?" she called back. She frowned at the silence she received. It was a very clear answer, one she had hoped she would not get.

They turned down an alley and went along a side street. Lines of washing hung from windows of unkempt buildings. Two small children ran past the Shinigami, one of them turning back to look at the two of them, dressed in suits in a poverty-stricken area. He shrugged to himself, assuming the two were lost foreigners, and raced to catch his friend.

An old horse stood outside a shop that seemed to offer anything the owner could find. It brayed once, swishing its tail at the flies that bothered it.

Annabelle opened her mouth to ask William a question about the soul she was to collect. Then she remembered the stony silence she received last time she spoke to him.

She let out an annoyed sound and removed the information about Winnifred Everly. She had wanted to make absolutely sure she had everything memorized. Over the top of the picture of the woman she was to find, Annabelle saw a movement of red.

"Oh great," she muttered. William, she was sure, probably felt the same way.

Grell Sutcliff was also in the East End, and it seemed he had spotted them. He crossed the street, ignoring the looks he was getting at his own odd appearance in the area, and smiled pointedly at the two of them.

"Fancy to run into you two here," he said with a laugh. "Still training her, Will?"

Annabelle turned and looked at William for the first time since he had gone silent. She wondered with amusement if he would correct Grell about his name. He merely surveyed their surroundings, acting as though he was the only person standing in that spot.

"William has taken a vow of silence," Annabelle told Grell. She pushed her glasses back up her face and put a hand on her hip. "And I have a job to do."

Grell did not hear, or just ignored, that last sentence. He was standing a little too close to William, poking at his face. "You won't even speak to me, Will?" he asked, a slight pout forming at his lips. Turning to Annabelle, he asked, "What did you do?"

"He decided to go all Royal Guard on me. _I_ had nothing to do with it!" Pulling back her glove, she glanced at her watch. "I need to get going. William, if you choose to play statues with _Mr. _Sutcliff, be my guest."

Grell huffed at her addressing him as Mr. but he said nothing as she walked down the street, only scowling slightly as William left him to catch up with her.

When he caught up with her, William quickly put his hand on her shoulder to alert her to his presence. He did not answer her question about whether or not he was done with his little game.

"OK," Annabelle told him as she looked over her information again. "Be that way." She wondered if this was in some way amusing to William but decided it might be best to not know the answer to that question. Instead, she asked him if he would be joining her as she realized she was at her destination.

William chose to stand in the doorway of the house Annabelle ducked into. Winnifred Everly was living in a small house, sharing it with several other people near her age and a few slightly older. She was the only one inside at the time. Bundled in a blanket at the far corner of a nearly empty den, the only hint of her presence was a shaky cough.

Annabelle crossed the room as silently as possibly and bent down at the lump of blankets. She needed to move the blankets in order to be completely positive that this was Winnifred. When she removed the topmost blanket, a dirty, sweat-soaked hand grasped at hers. Annabelle let out a small whimper of surprise but did nothing else to show how the simple motion startled her.

Winnifred mumbled something Annabelle could not understand. Due to her sickness, she wasn't sure that even Winnifred knew what she had said. Annabelle gripped her death scythe and sliced the sickly woman open.

"Winnifred Everly, age twenty-four. Born to Catherine Everly. Lost her mother a year and a half ago due to a carriage accident. Has lived with several other people in an attempt to make a living. Cause of death, pneumonia. Today's date is July 11th, 1889. No particular further notes." She stamped the page and put it away.

"Well done."

"Now he speaks," Annabelle said to the otherwise empty room. As they left the house, she added, "Thank you for the help with Grell, by the way. I truly appreciated it."

"I didn't," William muttered, rubbing his face where Grell had prodded him with a frown. "Though you handled that quite well also. Sometimes it is not so easy to get him to shut up."

"I try," Annabelle said with a small smile. Then a thought came to her. "You aren't going to do that to me again, are you?"

"You have had classes, you've joined me on assignments, you have also shown you can handle the job quite well on the two occasions when you gathered a soul. Not to mention you know the rules and follow them. Why would I not let you handle some of the easier souls?"

Annabelle did not answer that. She let it sink in slowly. Obviously William had complete faith in her, and it sounded like he was sure she was ready to handle a solo career. She would probably still answer to William but a solo career did not sound like the most enjoyable thing. Maybe William just did not like working as part of a pair.

She did not realize she had voiced her concern until William had grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to face him. "I do not mind working as a duo as long as I am working with a competent reaper. You still need guidance even though you have shown yourself to be just that. Why would you ask such a thing?"

"I don't know. It just sort of feels like you're wanting to get rid of me."

Releasing her, William said, "The thought had never crossed my mind."

Annabelle cleared her throat, looking for a change of subject. "I think we need to get back," she said. "I still have to type a letter of reflection."

"Right." William tapped his glasses with his scythe and nodded to her, allowing her to lead the way. She was glad he had started his silence game again, feeling a little embarrassed by her fears. She focused instead how she would handle her letter. She resolved then and there to handle things as they happened instead of jumping too far ahead of herself.


	8. Chapter 8

_First Cut_

_Yesterday was a bit of a busy day, I barely sat down! I've been wanting to type this up since yesterday but ah you know how it goes._

_Chapter 8_

Annabelle found herself barely using her own office area. Most often she was sitting across from William in his office. Seated across from him again, she glanced out the window, her hands neatly folded in her lap. The sky was dark, and ever so often a rain drop would splat at the window.

William was silently studying a stack of paper, occasionally frowning at a page as though it or a single sentence had offended him greatly. After they had arrived back from collecting the soul of a maid, Bartholomew handed the papers to William to look over. Annabelle, having finished her letter, had sat patiently waiting in William's office.

Clearly he was not going to tell her what the trouble was. Getting to her feet, she crossed the room to the window and peered outside. Rainy days had a tendency to make her sleepy. She wanted something to do.

She turned from the window and rested her hands on William's shoulders. "Important?" she asked, the first thing either one of them had spoken since entering his office.

"Very," he replied. "There will be a large quantity of souls that need collecting within the next week or so."

"And how is that handled?"

William finally took his eyes from the papers in his hand and looked at her. "I believe you're asking if you can observe this." When she nodded, he said, "I will think about it. If I have to leave and cannot take you with me, I will most likely assign you a temporary partner."

With a sigh, Annabelle said, "Well I suppose as long as it isn't Grell I'll be fine." She returned to her chair and asked, "May I?" as she reached for the pages of information William had already read through. 

"Be my guest."

Settling back in her chair Annabelle began to thumb through the papers. There were mostly pictures and profiles of the souls that would perish. The cause appeared to be a simple fire. She breathed a nearly inaudible sigh of relief. It was in part due to the fact that she did not wish to deal with a demon or other being and partly due to the fact that she was certain that she would be allowed to accompany William.

"You have to decide who to assign to this?" Annabelle asked, stacking the information neatly and placing it back on William's desk. When he nodded, she asked, "Certainly more than one person right?"

"A job this big will require more than one person. I would send at least two."

Annabelle fell silent as William continued to read. The rain began to fall faster and heavier, the only noise in the room. She stifled a yawn as William finished reading and rose to his feet. "Excuse me," he said to her, gathering the papers, "I will be back momentarily. You can stay here if you choose."

She nodded and cupped her chin in her hands. Would William take the task of collecting all those souls? It certainly would not be easy. It had appeared to her there would be around two dozen souls to collect that night. If he did take it, would it mean surveying the area for days ahead of time? While she did not read the entirety of the report, to her it seemed like an accidental fire. Not one intentionally caused by a demon or a sacrifice done by a wild cult.

Another yawn slipped out as she stared sleepily at the rain-soaked windows. Going to sleep on the job would probably land her in some form of trouble so Annabelle found herself fighting to stay awake.

She found herself resting her arms on William's desk, using them as a pillow. She blinked a few times, hoping to stay awake but failing at that task.

The next thing Annabelle knew, she was being gently shaken by William. "Annabelle," he was saying, "did you sleep well last night?"

Annabelle blinked in sleepy surprise and sat up, a bit of pink coloring her cheeks. "I am so sorry William, it's just that I had nothing to do and rain makes me sleepy. I guess because it's a rhythmic, somewhat soothing sound." She rubbed her eyes and glanced up at him. "How exactly are you going to punish me for it?"

He waved her question away. "Just don't let it happen again."

Surprised, Annabelle asked, "Why not? Isn't it against a rule?"

"You were in here, not on assignment. I can inform Bartholomew if you really desire it but I see no reason to." He glanced at her over his glasses and added, "But I can't excuse you falling asleep again."

Annabelle nodded, slightly in awe. With a little cough, she asked, "What have you decided to do about the fire?"

William's lip twitched as though he was fighting a smile. "You may go," he said, "but please stay out of the way."

"Then who is going to help?"

"Bartholomew has decided to sent Ronald Knox along." William did not sound too pleased with that. "It's better than that thing," he added. "Ronald also has a dislike of overtime. I can hope there will be no fooling around."

"Why 'hope'?"

William frowned and said, "Ronald can get "rowdy" as he puts it. He claims it is due to his age."

"Hmm. But as long as I sit back and behave I can go?" William nodded. "I can do that."

"And not fall asleep on the job?" he asked. She seemed annoyed at his teasing, so he also said, "You could help by marking the souls we collect _complete _if that makes you feel useful."

"I can also handle that."

"There is one more thing." William straightened his glasses and said, "You must listen to anything I say. Do not attempt to do anything I do not tell you to do. Do you understand that?"

"Yes," Annabelle said. She could not help but feel excited about the job, even William's serious attitude could not stop that.


	9. Chapter 9

_First Cut_

_I'm hoping the document uploader works today. I finished chapter 8 yesterday but whenever I tried to upload it, I was just sent to a white screen. So if it works there's two chapters today._

_Originally I was going to do the fire but I've wanted Will in his jammies since I went back and re-read the Noah's Ark Circus storyline with a friend. Goes to show how much attention I pay._

_Chapter 9_

Annabelle dragged herself up the flight of steps to her small apartment. With a groan she fumbled in her pocket for her keys and unlocked the door. It was well past midnight. She smelled faintly of smoke and wanted a bath before going to bed.

After slamming the door behind her, she let out a loud yawn. It had been a long night. She passed by her small, barely furnished living room and stumbled down the hall to the bathroom next to her bedroom. With one hand she released her hair from its braid and with the other loosened her tie. Using her death scythe she flicked her clothes hamper open and tossed the tie in there. It soon was followed by her jacket.

She yawned again as she set about running her bath. When it was ready the rest of her clothes were tossed at the hamper too.

After getting in the bath she begun to wash her hair. Soot and ash had made its way into her hair despite not going into the burning building earlier that evening. Ronald and William had wound up more dirty and sooty than she did.

William had forbidden her from going inside with them. She had found herself straining for the sounds of their voices as they collected soul after soul. On the occasion she had leaned through a blown out window, the flames had tickled at her face but nothing more. It made no sense for William to keep her outside.

Oh well. Holding her breath she ducked under the water to rinse her hair. William must have known what he was doing. She knew better than to question him.

Spluttering and coughing she popped out of the water and wrung her hair out before grabbing a pin from the side of the tub and pinning it back. After washing the rest of herself, she unstopped the tub and grabbed a fluffy white towel from the rack.

After drying herself she tossed the towel aside and slipped on her pajamas. With yet another yawn she sank down on the bed and began to brush out her hair. Little droplets of water flecked the bed but she shrugged it off. It wouldn't hurt too much.

Annabelle then slipped her glasses off, placing them on the small table by her bed along with her brush. "As tired as I am," she told herself, "watch me not go to sleep." She was fast asleep as her head hit her pillow.

For William, however, it was another story entirely. He had stayed behind in his office well after Annabelle slipped in to say good night. His night was not over after he and Ronald had jumped out of the building after collecting every last soul that perished in the fire. He, Ronald, and Annabelle had letter to write. He also wanted to double check that every soul had been accounted for. He did not want to leave any available to become a demon's late night snack.

Ronald hadn't been a joy to work with. Despite their mutual hatred for overtime, the reaping took longer than either of them had expected. Twice they had to check a room more than once. Attempts to hide from a fire were useless of course, but humans still tried it.

Annabelle was not too happy that he asked her to stay outside. He knew she could probably handle the job, and if he had allowed her to assist they more likely than not wouldn't have taken so long. His excuse, of course, was that she was not experienced enough. Ronald had teased him about being overly protective.

William tried his best to ignore the teasing from him. Finally he had snapped that they had a job to do and that Ronald needed to be quiet and do it. That had taken Ronald by surprise, but thankfully he became quiet and hurried to finish the task at hand.

Annabelle had done a thorough job of marking off the collected souls. He had taken the list from her after arriving back at the office and was pleased to see she had been paying attention. He still wanted to be sure and checked them again. Having recognized every face in every picture as someone he or Ronald had reaped, he was satisfied.

He did not leave his office until well after one in the morning. He entered his own apartment nearly ten minutes later. A shower was in order, of course, and then he needed some sleep before getting up in the morning. He and Annabelle had two souls to collect within an hour's time of each other early the next morning. The idea of sending her after one and going after the other himself had occurred to him, but she did not like being alone so he decided against it.

He made his way directly to his bathroom. He did not plan on a long shower, just long enough to wash the soot off himself. His clothes were neatly tossed with the rest of his suits that needed cleaning as he stepped under the spray. "Tch!" The water was a little chilly but William decided to just stay under it.

His glasses were removed only to wash his hair. After his hair was rinsed clean, sending little rivers of blackened water towards his feet, he slipped his glasses back on.

When he was satisfied that he was no longer covered in soot, William cut the shower off and grabbed his towel to dry off. He also needed to clean his watery glasses. In his bedroom he slipped on his striped pajamas and settled back into bed, removing his glasses once more.

As it was after two at that time, he fully expected to fall asleep quickly. Instead, he found himself staring at the blurry ceiling above him. As the sky began to lighten outside, William finally nodded off.


	10. Chapter 10

_First Cut_

_I don't have much to say right now. I feel like I need to say something here but I'm drawing a blank. Sorry!_

_Chapter 10_

William was trying his best to keep the effects of only a couple hours of sleep from showing. Thankfully Annabelle was quiet as she walked along beside him. She hadn't even complained of the overtime the night before.

She had stopped, so he stopped as well. A long line of carriages were making their way down the street. "What do you think it is?" Annabelle asked him.

William shrugged. "Humans can make an event of anything." If anything, he assumed it was a funeral. The sound of horses' hooves against the cobblestones sounded a lot louder than normal. It was giving him a headache.

Light grabbing her arm, he turned her towards an alley. She looked slightly confused but did not question him as they hurried along and scaled a high fence at the end of the alley. They landed in a garden of soft purple and yellow blossoms and dashed out of the yard as quick as possible. The last thing they wanted was someone coming out and shouting at them for trespassing or flower stomping.

"A shortcut?" Annabelle asked conversationally.

"You might say that."

"Do you want to help or..." Annabelle began as they stepped through the gates leading up to a large manor house.

"Do I need to?" he asked her.

"I guess not." Annabelle sighed faintly as they walked along the side of the house. The sounds of several children playing around reached her ears. William was certainly into the role of watching, not doing, she realized. She knew he was no slacker, so it was his way of teaching her. She wasn't too happy about being taught that way but she had to admit to herself that she knew no other method for teaching.

Five children of various ages were playing a game of their own design in the spacious backyard. Three of them boys, two of them little girls who had gotten their dresses dirty. '_Their mothers won't be happy,'_ Annabelle thought.

One of the boys had found a frog or perhaps some form of insect. He held it out in his hands to show the girls, who squealed as little girls do in the face of something gross and ran away. With a laugh he chased after them, slipping and stumbling but continuing to laugh at them.

Annabelle shook her head and readied her scythe. His chasing the girls lead them to a part of the yard covered with stones. He slipped again and lost his footing. A fat brown toad flew out of his hands and landed on the curly blonde hair of the smaller girl. She shrieked and raced for the house.

Annabelle thought it best to hurry towards the boy. The other three children crowded around him, calling to him to get up. If his parents came outside then her job would become even more difficult.

The oldest boy turned at the sounds of her approach. Then he looked beyond her to William. "Hey!" he began, accusation in his green gaze, "you're not supposed to be here! Who are you?"

"Move, please," Annabelle told him, gently nudging him aside. With a swift motion, she sliced the fallen boy open, revealing his cinematic record. As he was just a child, it was not long. But the sounds of the other children protesting found her ears, along with the crying of the girl who was still outside.

The expression of the older boy became one of fear. He wanted to turn and run to the house but was rooted on the spot. Annabelle ignored the children then, pulling out the list of souls and marked Mark Hutchinson, age nine _Complete. _

Continuing to ignore the children she turned and returned to William. He nodded and they retraced their steps back along the side of the house and out the gate.

"That wasn't too hard was it?" William asked.

Annabelle shook her head. "But they were just children. I'd still prefer to have the person I'm reaping be the only person around."

"It is not always going to be that way." William pointed out. "You did well," he added quickly.

"Thank you."

Annabelle was studying her list as she walked. "Do you want to just wait at the next location? We have some time."

"What would we do?" William asked.

Annabelle shrugged. "I have no idea," she answered honestly, "I just wanted your opinion."

"Let's wait."

Their waiting spot was a narrow passage between an inn and photography studio. The studio and it's customers were of no importance to them. It was a conflict in the inn that would spill outside that they waited on.

William and Annabelle waited in nearly identical positions, arms crossed over their chests with their backs to the wall. Annabelle leaned her head against William's shoulder. He did not complain so she stayed there until the shouting begun.

Jacob Riley was arguing with another man, one whose name was not listed on the death list. It did not matter anyway. He would kill Jacob with a single gunshot in the alley. Jacob was telling the other man that he did not cheat him out of his money, that he had paid the waitress for his room before.

"Quite the temper, hmm?" Annabelle asked William, referring to the owner of the inn. He nodded as the side door burst open and the two men came outside. Jacob was set, knowing he was right and the owner wrong. That devotion to his own faith in himself did not prevent him from getting shot by the foul-tempered innkeeper.

As Jacob lay bleeding sticky blood across the ground, Annabelle cut him with her scythe. William stood watching the alley, making sure that no one would become curious. Surely passers-by on the street heard the gunshot. Sure enough a small crowd had begun to form. He watched them all, wondering why no one had approached.

In the crowd, something caught his attention. Narrowing his eyes to yellow slits, he studied the faces again. The glimpse of white he thought he saw was gone but it worried him nonetheless.

"William?" Annabelle's voice brought him back to attention. She was putting away her copy of the death list and looking at him. "Anything wrong?"

"I thought I saw something. It's nothing," he added. "You should return to the office, wait for me there."

"Where are you going?" Annabelle hissed as he stepped towards the crowd.

"I have something to take care of."

Even after he had left, ignoring the questions the crowd of people had asked him, Annabelle stood rooted to the spot, trying to stare after him. What kind of business could he possibly have? She was torn between returning to his office to wait for him and following him. As Scotland Yard arrived, she slipped down the alley, hurried through the backdoor of the photography studio and started on her way back to William's office, hoping that whatever had distracted him, he would tell her about after he returned.


	11. Chapter 11

_First Cut_

_I don't think Will realizes her likes her just yet. :) Also I am so worried I don't have a certain someone's mannerisms right in this chapter. _

_Chapter 11_

William hurried down the street, not caring who exactly he knocked over. Normally he would not be in such a hurry but his concern pushed him forward. Every instinct told him to alert any Shinigami in higher power than himself, but as he was tired, he wanted to be sure. Unfortunately, the only other person he could go to was someone he did not like to visit. But even Shinigami required his services on occasion.

He came to a stop in front of a simple brick building. Two coffins flanked the door and the purple sign over the door simply read _Undertaker. _

Without knocking, William pushed the door open and stepped inside the dimly lit room. When the door shut, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the dimness.

Of course the room hadn't changed much since the last time he was there. Perhaps there were a few more beakers and flasks, a few extra coffins, and the lingering scent of death, but it was still the same building.

"Undertaker!" William called, stepping around the coffins laying on the floor. Surely he would be around somewhere.

"Ah, William Spears." Undertaker stepped out of a smaller room off the main one, pushing aside the purple curtain in the doorway as he did. "What brings you here, hmm? Would you like to try out one of my coffins?" As he spoke, he pushed open the coffin nearest to him. The inside was lined with a rich red velvet.

"Never," William told him. "I need to ask something of you."

Undertaker leaned over a stack of coffins, crossing his arms on top and smiling his pointed smile. "Then you know what I require of you, Spears."

Glaring at him, though William occasionally wondered if Undertaker could even see his glares through his mess of grey bangs, he said, "I will not give you a 'first rate laugh'."

With a chuckle, Undertaker turned and made his way back to the room he was in before, calling, "Have it your way. If you can't pay, I really must get back to my newest guest."

William's grip on his scythe tightened in his anger. "Undertaker," he demanded, his voice eerily calm as he tried his best to not lose his temper, "someone in your position should assist the Shinigami as they ask."

Peering around the purple curtain, Undertaker chuckled again. "My, what an angry reaper you are today. You also haven't slept well." William's frown deepened at that remark. "But you truly seem to need me to do something for you." Stepping back over to the open coffin, he said, "I'll pass up the laugh for today but you'll have to try the coffin."

A muscle twitched in William's cheek. He really did not want to get inside that coffin. But it was better than making Undertaker laugh. As he stepped towards the coffin, Undertaker reached over and plucked the death scythe from William's hand.

William stepped into the coffin and then lowered himself to a sitting position, never taking his eyes from Undertaker. As he stretched out in the coffin, he began to feel slightly nervous. Having Undertaker tower over him was nothing he ever wanted.

"Comfortable?" Undertaker asked, resting his hand on the lid as though he was about to close it.

"Close it and I destroy it!" William said through clenched teeth.

"So touchy," Undertaker said, a hint of teasing in his voice. "What is it you needed Spears?"

"Earlier this morning while on assignment, a death caused a crowd to form nearby. In that crowd I saw a pale young man with white hair, dressed completely in white. Have any of your... guests... shown any signs of an angel's attempts to purify their souls?"

"You saw," Undertaker said, grinning as he toyed with the lid of the coffin, "or thought you saw? In your sleepy state of mind – "

"Have you or have you not?" William demanded, stretching his arm above him to prevent the coffin from closing.

"No, I can't say any of them have." Undertaker now amused himself by twirling William's scythe between his fingers. "Every guest I have had recently seems to have been a routine death. Why did you not go to your superiors?"

"I wanted to be absolutely sure."

"Hmm... in that case I will keep an eye out for you. If I see anything I think you should know about, I'll find you." William sat up and reached for his scythe. Undertaker turned from him and said, "Stay awhile, you looked comfortable. I'll put on some tea."

"I really must get back," William said hotly, grabbing his scythe and leaping from the coffin. He strode to the door and flung it open, but paused and called over his shoulder, "Thank you for keeping an eye out for me."

"Anytime," Undertaker smiled, returning to his 'guest'.

As William walked away, he realized that while he was tired, he was fairly sure of what he had seen. An angel, running about in London! Just what he needed. Without further proof than what he had seen, though, he was not going to alert anyone else yet. He would just have to be on the lookout for the time being.


	12. Chapter 12

_First Cut_

_I am so pathetically sunburned at the moment. But never fear, despite my transformation into lobsterdom I will still try my best to update as long as I'm near the computer._

_Will's attitude in the last chapter was really fun to write. I think he can certainly have a temper, when it is called for! I also apologize for the way this chapter ended and the shortness of it. I think I got my point in this chapter across so I am happy with it._

_Chapter 12_

Annabelle's concern for William was growing. He had been acting different for the past several days. She wanted to ask him what was on her mind, and whether or not she could help, multiple times. She always talked herself out of him, certain he could handle his problems on his own.

She stood reviewing her next assignment by William's desk. A couple would fall out of a boat and drown. Shaking her head, Annabelle said, "Why do humans insist on going near water when they know they cannot swim?"

William said nothing. When she asked if he was ready to go, he nodded and followed her out the door, locking it behind him.

Annabelle occasionally glanced over at him out the corner of her eye. It confused her, this sudden change in attitude. Did she really want to know what kept him so preoccupied if it changed him so?

She debated asking him as they walked in silence. Finally, as they stood under the shade of a large tree as they watched the boat carrying a young couple closer, she asked, "William, is there anything on your mind? Anything at all?"

"Yes, there is," he told her.

Annabelle waited a minute or two before asking, "And...? What is it?"

William glanced at her before returning his gaze to the boat. He had debated with himself whether or not he should voice his concerns to her. He finally decided against it for the time being, knowing that the idea of an angel running around and "cleansing" souls would probably not be the best thing to tell her.

"I cannot tell you now," was his answer.

Annabelle sighed. _'I might as well have not asked,' _she thought. As the boat, closer to them now, nearly in the middle of the water, began to wobble, she changed the subject. "Do you want this one?"

William gestured her towards the water, indicating it was all hers. With a graceful leap, Annabelle jumped from the bank and onto the side of the capsizing boat. Samantha Gein was set to die first, the heavy skirts of her dress keeping her under the water. Extending her death scythe, Annabelle reaped her soul easily.

She glanced over her shoulder towards William. He was not alone now. There was a man with him, with long grey hair, dressed in all black including his top hat. "Who – ?" Annabelle did not get to finish her question to herself as the boat was grabbed by Tobias Baggins. He was trying his best to return to the boat but his efforts only flipped the boat over completely and sent Annabelle in the water.

She was furious, mostly at herself for not paying attention. Still under the water she swung her death scythe, perhaps cutting Tobias more than she should have in her fury. After reviewing his cinematic record, she surfaced, pulled out her death list, and marked both _Complete._ Thankfully the lists were able to withstand a little water.

She swam to the shore, noticing that William's company had left. When she reached his side, he looked at her with a small hint of amusement. "You're soaked," he told her.

"I thought I felt a little damp." Dripping wet and not caring at the moment, Annabelle glared at him. "What is wrong with you, William? You haven't acted like yourself lately and it's bothering me."

"You handled yourself very well considering the fact that you were underwater for one."

With a growl of rage, she grabbed him by his suit jacket and dragged him to a nearby storage building. It was small but it served her purpose of privacy. Among the paddles and other boating supplies, Annabelle shoved William against the wall. "I'm not letting you go until you tell me what the problem is! How do you know I can't help you?"

William chuckled despite her clear anger. Cupping her chin with his hand to force her to keep eye contact, he said, "You know I never said that. Do not put words in my mouth."

"You seem to have the idea!" she said hotly, trying to get out of his grasp.

He began to stroke her cheek with his thumb. "Annabelle, I trust you entirely. Can you help? I would rather not become a part of this. I want to keep you safe. Now can you trust me?" Annabelle did not answer him. "Can you?" he asked again.

Still without an answer, she released him. "Why do I need to be safe?" she asked.

"Things could become dangerous." He, too, released her.

"Then who were you talking to?"

"Undertaker." He wanted to leave it at that, hoping that she would not push him to answer more. What Undertaker had told him was slightly disturbing, but still no proof.

Annabelle narrowed her eyes at him, turned on her heel, and left. William hoped he would not have to deal with her anger too.


	13. Chapter 13

_First Cut_

_I hope this chapter doesn't give me as much trouble as the last one. So much deleting and retyping! I also caught something I missed in my sleepy state last night and had to change it so that's why it was posted twice._

_Chapter 13_

Annabelle had just received her new death list. Looking over it, she felt it was a little short compared to other lists. With a hint of reluctance, she headed for William's office to ask for his opinion on the list and to take his copy to him as well.

In the elevator, she encountered nobody. Shifted from one foot to the other, wanting to get this over with. She had no idea how to respond to William's recent behavior. While she was tempted to give him a dose of his own medicine, Annabelle tried her best to fight that urge.

As the elevator doors opened, she found William waiting for it. "Annabelle," he said pleasantly, "I was just coming to find you."

"Were you?" she asked. "I wonder why."

He lead her back to his office. "Please stop the bitterness, Annabelle."

Not wanting to get on that subject, Annabelle handed him their list. "Does it seem a little small to you?' she asked. As she waited for his answer, she perched herself on the edge of his desk. If only she could put her finger on what was troubling him. Perhaps then she could help.

_'He doesn't want to make it my business, though,' _she reminded her, absently swinging her foot. A light blush crept to her cheeks as she remembered how he had caressed her cheek. Had that been to distract her? She did not think so.

"It is a little light," William said, tucking his list away. "Which is less work for you."

She swatted at him with her own list. "Well if you didn't spend your time talking to oddities then I would not have to do all the work!"

"Can I make that up to you?"

Annabelle opened her mouth to answer with a smart remark but she quickly shut it. "I'll think about it," she said, "if you won't tell me what's so distracting."

"Let's go," he told her. "We have work to do."

"You mean _I _have work to do," Annabelle said dryly as she hopped off his desk and followed him out the door.

"Ah, yes. My mistake."

An American tourist was due to die shortly after lunch. Annabelle and William perched atop the roof of a building across from the site of his soon-to-be accident. Jeremy Anderson would be easy enough to spot, or so Annabelle felt. She continued to watch the streets, noticing William move out of the corner of her eye.

"Annabelle," he called, "come here for a moment."

"What? We have to reap this man, William." She stepped over to the edge of the roof were William stood. He pointed to a small group of people, nearly a dozen or so. They were standing around something neither Shinigami could see. They seemed excited.

"If they're still there after we collect this soul," Annabelle began softly, "do you think we should investigate?" William nodded. "Would you rather collect the Anderson man's soul? You could do it more quickly than I can."

"I will," he told her. "You watch that crowd."

He leaped from the roof and landed gracefully in the street below just as Jeremy Anderson, paying no attention to where he was heading, stepped out in front of a carriage. The driver tried to steer the horses away from him but they continued their trot. The hapless American was trampled as the driver continued his attempt at stopping the horses.

Annabelle knew William would be back within a minute or two but she beginning to feel nervous. Down below, the person in the middle of the group stood still as the rest began to walk ahead of him. Annabelle crouched low but not fast enough to avoid staring into a piercing pair of lilac eyes.

She continued to couch, shutting her eyes as her heart thudded wildly in her chest. Her eyes shot open as she heard William call her name.

"What's wrong?" he asked, offering his hand to help her to her feet. She told him what happened, how a simple little thing like eye contact startled her so. He released her hand and peered over the edge of the roof. He saw no one.

"Which way did they go?" he asked.

"Have you lost your mind?" Annabelle demanded. "You can't go after him by yourself! I won't have it."

"Becalm yourself, Annabelle. This is nothing a rookie like you should concern herself with."

"Send someone else then. You know you have the authority..." She trailed off, staring at William, her expression one of understanding. "This is what's been troubling you isn't it?"

With a small, nearly inaudible sigh, William straightened his glasses. He had a decision to make and fast. "Come to my office tonight before you go home," he said. "I will explain it then."

She nodded, her heartbeat finally slowing down to a normal pace. Satisfied, she offered him a tiny smile for the first time in days. Just as soon as she offered it, it was gone.

"William," she said as they walked across the roof, "I want you to do one thing for me." He stopped and faced her. "Do not confront this... issue... by yourself." She felt it was a small thing to ask.

He nodded. "I won't."


	14. Chapter 14

_First Cut_

_I can see William being a bookish kind of guy can't you? Or maybe it's just me thinking bookish guys are smoking hot._

_I am also slightly ashamed of myself as these past few chapters have become a little short to my liking._

_Chapter 14_

That evening Annabelle went to William's office as she was told. She was eager to get everything out of William that she could. Before she could knock on the door, William opened it and grabbed her arm. "Come on," he told her, shutting the door behind him and locking it.

"You haven't changed your mind have you?" Annabelle demanded. "I really want to know – "

"I know you do and I don't want to risk eavesdroppers. That's why we're going to my apartment."

Annabelle raised an eyebrow curiously but said nothing to argue. The change of location was a surprise yes, but the bigger surprise was where it had changed to. As long as he was going to tell her, though, she was not going to complain.

Once reaching the ground floor, they were nearly pounced by Grell. "Will~!" he called, fluttering his eyelashes. Then he spotted Annabelle. "Where are you two going?" he asked. "Late night assignment?"

With a smirk, Annabelle linked her arm with William's. "We're going to William's apartment." She led William to the door, leaving Grell spluttering behind them.

Out in the cool night air, William smiled. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

"Well," Annabelle said, releasing his arm, "it wasn't a lie, was it?"

"No."

"And it stopped him didn't it?"

William could not deny that. Nothing more was said until they reached his apartment. He led Annabelle to the couch. She sat down with her back against the arm of the couch, her full attention on William. He sat down next to her, angling himself so he was facing her.

"I apologize for not fully giving you my word," he began. "I would rather no one overhear my telling you this before I went to someone with the authority to do something about this."

Annabelle nodded. "That I can understand," she said. "I've told you before I do not want you getting in trouble due to me."

"I most likely would not be in trouble but there is always someone who will make something of it down the line." After a pause, he asked, "Certainly you understand what happened yesterday?"

"An angel." Annabelle's answer was sure, but she herself felt unsure about it. "But why?"

"Apparently London isn't being pure enough for them," William said with a shrug. He was not sure of the answer, and he knew he would only get an answer when he or someone else confronted the angel in question. That was not something he looked forward to.

"How long has this angel been running loose?" Annabelle asked, but the answer was clear to her.

Again, William shrugged. "I cannot say. But do you recall the morning I left you because I had something to do?"

"Of course, how could I forget that?"

"I went to Undertaker because I saw something in that crowd of people. A human, or something akin to a human, dressed in all white. If anyone would know of an angel's presence, it would be Undertaker."

"I can't say I've ever met him," Annabelle remarked. "I've heard of him, of course."

"You might see him around soon enough if we need his help."

"But why – ?"

William shushed her. "Trust me," he said, "he is an excellent source of information. He will receive corpses, or as he refers to them 'guests', from time to time that no Shinigami has reaped. As frustrating as that man can be, he is sometimes our only means of finding out which soul we may have missed."

Annabelle nodded slowly. "Then what help has he had to offer about this angel?"

"He recently received some _interesting _guests. A male and female, both in their mid-twenties. Her jugular vein was cut while his abdomen was sliced open."

"And how much Japanese blood was left?" Annabelle asked.

William looked surprised. "None," he said. "But it was clear in Undertaker's mind that they had committed, or been forced into, seppuku and jigai, respectively. How did you know?"

Annabelle's gaze swept the living room. William had several bookshelves full of books. "You might be well read," Annabelle pointed out, "but you aren't the only one who knows these sorts of things. Why, though, would an angel do that?"

Neither one could come up with an answer for that. "Tomorrow morning I will be informing Bartholomew and he will take it to whomever else he feels needs to know," William said after several long minutes of speculation between them. "You are not to get involved in this."

"And you," Annabelle said, getting to her feet and stretching, "are not going to confront this angel alone, remember? Are you willing to tell me what is said, at least?"

With a nod, William rose to his feet as well. "Do you want to stay here tonight?" he asked. Her fear from the earlier encounter with the angel was still fresh in his mind. She politely turned him down. "Then shall I walk you home?"

Again, Annabelle turned the offer down. "You need to rest," she told him at the door. She hugged him and added, "I do trust you."

"What?"

"You asked me before if I trusted you. Don't you remember?"

As William patted her on the back, he said, "Yes I do remember. Good night."

Annabelle bade him good night as well and hurried down the stairs and onto the street. It was becoming a chilly night. The cold air did not get to her but Annabelle still wanted to get home as quick as she could. While the odds were not in her favor, she did not want to run into the angel trying to "purify" the citizens of London. By herself, she was no match for him.

Up on the highest rooftop in the area, a white figure stood watching her rush to her own apartment. He could strike then and there. It would be quick. He ran his fingers along the blade of a short dagger. _One less Shinigami to fight for souls, _he thought. Then he tucked the weapon away. Not yet, he decided. The time would present itself.


	15. Chapter 15

_First Cut_

_He's one crazy angel isn't he? And Will, he's such a smarty pants with super smart pants._

_Chapter 15_

William had hopes of seeing Annabelle before he saw Bartholomew that morning. He did not. He was not worried about her, he just hoped he would find some comfort in her presence.

Finding none, he went directly to Bartholomew's office. "Good morning, William," Bartholomew said, rising to greet him, "what brings you here at this hour."

"A bit of an emergency," William said, shutting the door behind him. He bowed slightly to Bartholomew and then said, "I apologize for not bringing this to your attention earlier."

"What is it?" Bartholomew asked, leaning back in his chair and gazing up at William with curiosity, not the anger that William expected to soon show. "Is there any issues with Annabelle?" 

"Annabelle is an excellent protege," William said, "it has nothing to do with her." Bartholomew gestured to the chair across from him but William politely declined to sit. He cleared his throat and began. "Recently, I thought I had seen an angel while she and I were out on an assignment. I partly put it off to a lack of sleep, as this person dressed entirely in white vanished when I looked back. I went to Undertaker to see if he had any indication of an angel having been spotted around London or had been collecting souls we know nothing about. Annabelle and I, just yesterday, were collecting the soul of an American tourist when a crowd drew my attention. I was troubled by this crowd, as was Annabelle. After I reaped the American, I returned to Annabelle. She was distressed due to the person at the focus of this crowd making eye contact with her. She confirmed what I suspected, there is an angel running around London."

Bartholomew was quiet throughout William's explanation. He stared at William intently, taking his words in without so much as a hint of reaction. Finally, he asked, "Why did you not come to me first?"

William bowed in apology. "I wanted to be certain. I did not want to alert you to an angel without there actually being one."

"I can understand that," Bartholomew said, removing his glasses and cleaning them. "Is there anything else you need to tell me?" he asked, putting his glasses back on and getting to his feet.

With a nod, William said, "Yes, Undertaker informed me that he had received two corpses, a man and a woman, in their mid-twenties, with the appearance of having committed seppuku and jigai respectively."

Bartholomew's eyes widened slightly. "Seppuku, as in the ways of samurai suicide?"

William nodded again. "Yes, his abdomen was slit open with a small blade according to Undertaker but there was no way to tell if it was by a tanto. Or even done by himself. His neck was not partially decapitated, as a second to seppuku would do. Undertaker was certain he had died due to the blood loss from the abdomen cut."

"And jigai?" Bartholomew asked. "I hate to admit it but the term does not ring a bell."

"Jigai was performed by females of samurai families at desperate moments, such as preventing capture. The woman would bind her legs with rope to remain in a dignified position even in death and then slit her throat at the jugular."

Bartholomew looked slightly aghast. "This is how those people died?" he asked. "And we did not reap them?"

William shook his head. "To my knowledge, no." He pulled a small stack of pictures from the inside of his suit and handed them to Bartholomew. "Undertaker allowed some photographs. I cannot say I've seen these two people."

Placing the stack on his desk, Bartholomew said, "I'll get one of the girls to make copies and hand them around. Or at least show them to the typing pool. They should know over anyone here whether or not we managed to collect those two souls. Is there anything else I need to know, William?"

"No," William said, "there is nothing else I can tell you at the moment."

"I can assure you I will have everyone on alert by the end of the day." Bartholomew stared pointedly at William and added, "I most likely do not need to tell you this, but I'm putting Annabelle in your hands. You are not to attempt to take down this angel with her around. Her safety should be your concern. All of our recent graduates will be in the same situation."

"I understand completely." Before he left, William added, "I will report anything else to you as soon as possible."

Bartholomew followed him out of the office but the two went their separate ways. William went to find Annabelle while Bartholomew took the pictures and went down the hall towards the sounds of typewriters.

Annabelle was not too hard to find. She was seated on a couch down the hall, talking to a blonde woman who was nodding eagerly over whatever it was Annabelle had said. When Annabelle saw William, she told the blonde that she would speak with her later and hurried over to him.

"How did it go?" she asked.

"He wasn't furious with me. It is up to him to alert everyone now. You are my priority by the way."

Annabelle looked confused. "I thought I was your priority. What have I been?"

William smiled but it quickly vanished. "I have to keep you safe if we have another incident with this angel. Anything that we see or find out must go straight to Bartholomew. Do your best to avoid an alteration if we see him."

She nodded, slightly dumbfounded. "I don't think I would ever do such a thing."

"Good. I can't have you getting injured."

"Too much paperwork?" she asked.

"There are more important things than paperwork."

Annabelle reached up and placed her hand against William's forehead. "Did you really just say that?" she asked. "You don't have a fever."

He removed her hand and squeezed it for a moment in answer. "We do still have a job to do," he told her. "Let's get to it."

Annabelle nodded. The threat of an angelic being did not seem all that horrible anymore.


	16. Chapter 16

_First Cut_

_I imagine there are some of you begging and bouncing around hoping for a kiss about now._

_Chapter 16_

There was noticeable change around the Shinigami building within the next few days. The younger, recently graduated Shinigami gave the air of either nervousness or excitement. Older Shinigami were more stressed, and some of them were annoyed at having to be paired up with the newer reapers.

There were complaints that they slowed the more experienced Shinigami down. William was quick to point out that not only did it help the younger reapers, but as they were shorthanded, the experience they gained would help all of them in the long run.

His biggest issue was whether or not he should continue working with Annabelle or send her back to typing up death lists. On the one hand, she could quickly spot any troubling death. On the other, he knew she would be unhappy with him for doing such.

Annabelle herself was often in his office. She had her questions of course, and he had answers to give her. That afternoon he had planned to drop by Undertaker's funeral parlor. As he and Annabelle left to collect the souls assigned to them, he still had not made up his mind on taking her with him or not.

Their morning was uneventful. The collected the souls of three people, one of them a suicidal woman who saw them as she stepped from the chair she was standing on to hang herself. She seemed to want to change her mind as she saw them, perhaps realizing the finality of it, but neither could interfere.

As they found themselves walking to Undertaker's, William still had not made up his mind. A rustling sound caught his attention. As he glanced over at Annabelle, she was about to pop a Funtom caramel candy in her mouth. Pausing when she saw him watching her, she asked, "I'm sorry, did you want some?"

"No thank you."

With that, Annabelle popped it in her mouth. "Sorry," she said again, "one of the other girls got me started on them when we were in the academy."

He only shook his head in response. Once they reach Undertaker's funeral parlor, he asked if she was going in with him. It seemed like the best thing to do, give her the option of whether or not she goes in.

She nodded and was right behind him. "My,"Undertaker called as he continued to sip his tea, "I appear to be popular with the reapers today." He set the beaker he was drinking from on the table and continued. "Bartholomew Daniels, that _interesting _red one, and now you two." To Annabelle, he added, "Your name I don't believe I know."

"Annabelle Sims," she replied.

"Can I interested you in trying out one of my caskets?" he asked, judging her reaction.

"Honestly? No, I really don't think anything could tempt me into a coffin."

Undertaker laughed, revealing his pointy teeth. She might be as fun to bother as William, he decided, but since they clearly had business with him he would leave her alone for the time being.

"As I told Daniels," he said, gesturing for the two of them to follow him, "I did get another young woman this morning. She's the same as the other two."

"Jigai?" William asked.

"Yes."

The three of them stood in a smaller room with the deceased woman on a long table in the center. She had been dressed in a simple brown high-collared gown. Undertaker pulled down the collar of the gown to show the long slit along her neck.

"It looks forced," William remarked.

"It was," Undertaker told him. He pushed the skirt of her gown up to her knees, revealing rope marks on her legs that would stay even in death. "There are also marks on her arms from restraints." He shook his head and returned her to whatever dignity she could have as a corpse.

"She was brought in by three others," he added. "I expect them back to get her. If they don't then I suppose I'll need to find somewhere to put her."

"Did those people have anything to say?" Annabelle asked as they left the deceased woman.

Undertaker leaned against a stack of coffins, the topmost one open. It revealed a pale purple satin interior. "Normally," he told her, "I require payment in the form of laughter."

Annabelle exchanged a look with William. Undertaker chuckled at the look between them.

"I want nothing today," he said. "That redheaded reaper of yours gave me enough laughs~!"

William groaned. There was no telling what Grell had done, but he was certainly not going to ask. If Undertaker was offering a freebie, he would willingly take it.

"The only man in the group mentioned an Alexander. He said something along the lines of Alexander not being too pleased with Jenny. That she was impure and tainted."

"Did you tell Bartholomew?" William asked.

Undertaker nodded. "He likes to make threats with his scythe as well. I told him everything I told you just now. I also extended the offer to wait and see who comes and gets her but he seemed to be in a rush."

William checked his watch and asked, "Do you know when someone will pick her up?"

"They seemed irritated, and a little frightened. I do not know when she will be taken to her final resting place."

"Tch. If you find anything out, should anyone come to get her – "

"You'll know." Undertaker followed them to the door and to Annabelle he whispered, "I'll keep one of my finest coffins available in case you come back~!"

Annabelle shuddered and hurried out the door. She waited for William, who was exchanging words with Undertaker in the doorway. _'Alexander,' _she thought. _'It's not much but maybe it's something to go from.'_

William joined her then. Together they walked down the street in the direction of the next soul to be collected that day. He wanted to know what was on her mind. Finally, he asked.

"I'm just trying to work all of this out, but I'm getting nowhere."

"Neither am I, but you aren't supposed to be working things out," William told her. "Leave that to us."

She leaned against him as they walked. "You don't even want to ask my opinion? It's here if you want it."

"I want you to stay out of trouble," he told her, his arm around her shoulders. "I mean it, leave it to those of us who have had to deal with angels before."

"As you wish," Annabelle replied.


	17. Chapter 17

_First Cut_

_I got up early just to type this out since I was busy yesterday. Feel the love!_

_Also, I had to do it to Will. Of course, I'm the same way without my glasses so... that makes it not mean right? :)_

_Also also, sometimes these deaths are based on something. I doubt anyone will get this one. I will love you with most of my heart if you do!_

_Chapter 17_

That morning had started off badly. Despite the day only being cloudy, there was a lack of people on the streets. There was a chill in the air but it was ignored by the two reapers. They had souls to collect and a chill was not going to stop them.

Annabelle thumbed through their death list as she walked, trusting William to keep her from walking into anything. "William," she said, stopping and pointing to two entries on the list. "These two are very close together in time. What do you think?"

William stopped and leaned over her shoulder to look. "The best answer would be to split up. I know you prefer to work together, and with this angel running around wherever he pleases I'd rather stay together, but it would be faster to separate momentarily."

"You're right, of course," Annabelle told him. She handed him the sheets he would need and asked, "Should we meet back here?"

"That would be best." Before splitting up, he added, "Don't dawdle."

"Hmm?" Annabelle asked, pretending she had not heard him. "Oh, sorry, I was just planning my side trips." The two exchanged a smile before hurrying off in separate directions.

A gentle mist began to fall as Annabelle hurried north, the way she needed to go. It did not bother her, but she silently hoped that it would not rain. The last thing she needed or wanted was to get sleepy.

Despite it being morning, the sky was beginning to darken. Humans, she decided, spotting her quarry, sometimes deserved the death they brought on themselves. Here was a man, who, despite the weather, was trying his best to retrieve a child's toy from the roof of the house. A bright yellow ball was stuck on the roof, just shy of having rolled off.

The mist was making the roof slick and as Charlie Palmer stepped towards it, he slid. His arms flailed wildly in the air but there was nothing to catch himself on. He slipped from the roof with some grace before landing with less grace.

Annabelle slit him open with her death scythe and reviewed his record. She shook her head as she saw flashes of two small children playing with the yellow ball, tossing it until it soared from their reach and landed on the roof, where it became stuck. They tried to convince Palmer to get it down and he finally agreed.

"Charlie Palmer, age thirty-four. Died on September 1st, 1889 due to broken neck. No further notes." "If you had waited," she told the corpse as she marked his picture _Completed, _"it would have come down."

As if to prove her point, a gust of wind pushed the ball past the rain gutter that held it back. It hit the ground and bounced, landing at her feet.

With a final shake of her head, she turned and hurried back to where she and William had decided to meet. Glancing at her watch, she was sure William would be there first. Something whizzed through the air and landed at her feet. Sticking out of the ground was a silver-handled dagger. Annabelle looked up at the rooftops, trying to see where it had come from.

Before she could spot her foe, another one flew at her but this time she was knocked out of the way. William held the dagger between two fingers, just as he had caught it, as he helped her to her feet. Annabelle opened her mouth to question him but before she could speak he threw the dagger back in the direction it came from.

"Now, now," a voice called from the roof of a bookstore, "it isn't nice to use someone's weapons against them."

"Then perhaps you shouldn't throw them," William replied.

The angel leaped from the roof and landed across the street from them. He stood as tall as William, but the heels of his boots gave him a couple inches of that height. Straight white hair fell to his chin, lilac eyes showed distaste. The angel was dressed in a white suit, complete with white tail coat. Lilac buttons, a lilac vest, lilac stud earrings and lilac cufflinks were the only colored pieces of his outfit. A sword hung at his hip, the silver hilt matching that of the daggers he surely had more of on his person.

"You reapers make my work so difficult," he told them.

"And what work would that be?" William asked, standing protectively in front of Annabelle, his scythe at the ready. "Besides taking the souls we are meant to collect?"

Alexander laughed before throwing several daggers at William. "You think I would just tell you something like that so easily?" A small frown formed at his lips as William knocked the daggers away with ease. "What do you take me for?"

He licked his lips and tossed a few more daggers, then threw one after William was distracted by the others. While William knocked them away, the stray one hit his glasses, knocking them from his face. He let out a sound of annoyance and dropped to his knees, searching for his glasses.

Annabelle glanced at William before returning her gaze to the angel in front of her. While she wanted to help William, that would leave them both open as easy targets. She tightened her grip on her death scythe, readying herself for a volley of daggers. Instead, Alexander drew his sword and rushed at her. It clanged against her scythe but she held her ground despite the difference in strength.

She shoved him away with her scythe and tried to cut him with the end of it. Alexander dodged them and swung his sword at her again, this time aiming for her hands. She ducked and slipped under his arm. Behind him, she took the second of surprise and kicked him in the back. Before she could strike, there was a shout from above and the sound of a chainsaw as Grell jumped from the roof to join the fight.

Alexander rolled out of the way just in time to avoid being impaled by Grell's scythe. "Four against one," he hissed, "is no fair fight. Good-bye, for now." Grabbing his sword, he jumped onto the nearest roof and soon hurried from their sight.

Annabelle glanced at Grell and the young Shinigami that he had been assigned. She muttered a thanks before picking up William's glasses. "Here," she told him, sliding them back on his face.

He thanked her before removing them to clean them. "Tch, chipped," he muttered. "I'll need to get them repaired." Turning to Grell, he also thanked him.

Grell waved their thanks away, leaning against his scythe. "I would have been here sooner," he added with a pointed glance towards the young Shinigami who remained silent behind him, "but someone likes to dally."

"And you don't?" Annabelle muttered. Grell either did not hear it, or chose to ignore her.

The rest of their afternoon was spent in Bartholomew's office, recounting the details of their exchange with the angel and the ensuing fight. Bartholomew seemed furious about an angel attacking two of his reapers, but seemed pleased with what little information could be given.

After he dismissed them, William hurried to the eyeglass makers. As he waited for the chip on his glasses to be repaired, Annabelle joined him. "After this," she asked over the sounds of lenses being shaped, "are you going home?"

"Most likely. Why?"

"I was wondering if you would walk home with me."

"Of course." Turning in the direction of her voice, he added, "Were you hurt earlier?"

She shook her head. "No, just a few scrapes from being pushed is all."

"I apologize for that," William told her. His glasses were quickly repaired and he joined her on the walk to her apartment.

His plan was to stay with her for a little while and she did not seem to mind. But William did not realize how tired the stress of dealing with an angel had made him. As he leaned back against her couch, listening to her talk but taking nothing in, he nodded off.

Later, he was awoken by something tickling his face. "Sorry," Annabelle told him, "I didn't mean to wake you." She had freed her hair from its braid and it had brushed against his face as she removed his glasses. "I didn't want you breaking them again."

"How long have I been asleep?" he asked with a yawn.

"About three hours, give or take." She placed the blanket she was holding on the couch next to him. "I didn't want to wake you," she added. "I guess you aren't resting too well. You're welcome to stay here."

"If you don't mind," he told her, "I think I will."

She smiled and bade him good night as he stretched out on her couch. She spread the blanket over him and bent down to kiss his cheek. He was already fast asleep. With a smile to herself, Annabelle returned to her bed.


	18. Chapter 18

_First Cut_

_I based it on the wandering mother and daughter in Fatal Frame III. The daughter, Kozue, loses her ball on the roof. Her father goes to retrieve it, slips, falls, and dies in front of her. She doesn't let her mother, Makie, know. Makie meanwhile doesn't want to let her daughter know her father is dead so they "search" for him every day. Due to their guilt and secrets, they succumb to the tattoo curse. Their bodies turn to soot and their souls are spirited away to the manor of sleep._

_Aside from that explanation, I have a question. Would anyone be interested in reading about Will and Annabelle's child trying to graduate from the Shinigami Academy?_

_Chapter 18_

Annabelle sighed and began to rub her temples. She had been in William's office for nearly an hour and the two of them had been bickering for about that long. She was trying to stand her ground but found herself losing to William.

"I just feel you would be better off here," he said.

"Well I don't want to go back to typing." She crossed her arms and glared at him. Behind his desk, he too was trying to stare her down. "I've actually enjoyed reaping."

William leaned back in his chair and remarked, "You do realize that I'm your superior don't you? I could force you to work on death lists again."

She exhaled loudly, blowing a strand of hair that had fallen loose from her face. Of course she remembered that. She had hoped _he _wouldn't remember it. "You wouldn't do that, would you?" she asked.

"Do you want to find out?" he asked.

No, she did not want to find out. "To think I had the idea you liked having me around," she muttered. She still had not budged from her chair. If William wanted to drag her out then so be it. Annabelle had no plans to make his job easier.

The honest truth was, she had expected this. But she still was not happy with the idea of being shoved back in front of a typewriter. A thought came to her. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on his desk and asked silkily, "Well if you send me away then who is going to watch out for you should you lose your glasses again? We both know you're hopeless without them. I suppose you could be partnered with Grell..."

William did not take the bait. If that remark _did _get to him, he tried his best to not show it. "It's for the best," he told her.

"Do I get the chance to appeal this?"

"I don't see why not," William told her, "but I also don't see Bartholomew granting an appeal." He got to his feet and asked, "Why must you make this difficult?"

"Why are you making it difficult?" she shot back.

"Believe me," William said, "this is more difficult for me than it is you."

Annabelle continued to glare at him. "Why don't you prove that?" she asked. William obliged. He bent down and brought his lips to hers. As he pulled away, she said, "I still don't believe you, why don't you try to prove it again?"

William looked as though he was trying his best to fight a smile. "Would you think about it at least?" he asked, trying to return the conversation to the matter at hand.

"No," she told him. "I wouldn't like it but if you decide to pull rank and make me go back to typing collection lists, I will not be happy with you."

William leaned against his desk. "That I'm sure of. You absolutely refuse to willingly go back to your old job for a while?" When she nodded, he asked, "Then what do I do with you?"

"You keep me within your sight. What else would you do with me?" she asked with a smirk.

William chose to ignore that. He reached behind him for the list of souls that needed reaping that day. "I had also hoped you would continue to help me as you typed lists. I have wanted someone to look through them carefully and report back on any oddities."

"Why didn't you say that in the first place?" she asked. "I know several people down there. I can ask them." With a teasing glance she added, "Or you could just pull rank like you tried to do just now."

"Would you do that?" he asked.

"Just let me know when you want me to ask and I'll do it. It will be no trouble."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "What if they refuse to tell you anything?"

Annabelle got to her feet and shrugged. "I don't see why they would not tell me anything. I'm sure by now they know there's an angel that's making his rounds. They might be looking for odd spots on the list anyway. And we have a right to know, especially you," she added.

She leaned against his shoulder and stared at the death list with him. "Where are we headed now?" she asked.

"The East End," he replied. As he followed her out the door, he wondered just how exactly he had lost that argument.

William did have to make a few things clear. "We are not splitting up anymore," he told her as they waited for an elevator. "I need to know where you are while we're doing our jobs."

"That will be no trouble," she said. "I'm not the type to fool around. But while we're on the subject of what to do around angels, I have a suggestion. You need to put your glasses on a chain like Grell's so you don't lose them."

With a sigh, William rapped her lightly on the head with his scythe.

Frowning with her hand on her head, Annabelle asked, "What was that about?"

"I was being serious," he told her. "Now then, we have work to do."

To Annabelle's immense relief, their afternoon was angel free. William also did not bring up the threat of putting her back among papers and ink ribbons. She sincerely hope she had chased the idea from his head.


	19. Chapter 19

_First Cut_

_Well, the bad part of it is, this will be winding down soon. But the good news to me is, not only has this gone wonderfully for me, I actually did not intend it to be this long. I'm proud of myself and very happy you guys like this._

_Chapter 19_

"And that finishes our list for the week," Annabelle said as she stamped the last picture _Completed. _She and William had just collected the soul of a young man who died after being flung from his horse. To her surprise, William had not brought up "demoting" her again.

As they walked away from the corpse, William casually said, "I haven't heard anything about that angel recently. Alexander if Undertaker was correct."

"Did you want to go to see him?" she asked, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

"Undertaker? It would not hurt anything."

Annabelle feigned indifference. "If you want to go then let's go."

They made small talk on the walk to Undertaker's funeral parlor, both of them casting the occasional glance behind them or up above them. Annabelle could not shake the prickling feeling along her spine, the feeling that someone was watching her. She tried hard to ignore it.

Undertaker, it appeared, did not have a guest as the building was empty. William leaned against a stack of caskets and glanced at Annabelle. "If you do not wish to wait, we can leave."

She shook her head. "I don't like being here," she said, "but since you want to I'll stomach it." As she spoke, something slimy floating around in a jar caught her attention. She made a face, hoping William did not notice it.

The silence in the room was slightly disturbing. Annabelle stood with her arms crossed over her chest, occasionally shifting her weight from one foot to the other. William remained against the coffins, vaguely wondering if one of them was the one that Undertaker made him lay in.

_'Creepy how it almost feels like we belong here,' _Annabelle thought with a shudder. The want for fresh air and sunlight began to envelope her when she heard the creak of the door opening. Before she could blink, William had hurried over to her and dragged her behind a stack of coffins in a shadowy corner of the large room.

Being shoved into a corner, with a stack of caskets in front of her and, William blocking the way around them, made her feel worse. He held fast to her wrist as the sounds of a body being dragged inside reached them.

"You're getting blood everywhere," a female voice said, her tone oozing worry. "He's going to be angry!"

"I'd rather him be mad at me than Alexander!" a male voice shot back. "Besides, as weird as he is, I imagine Undertaker would _like _this mess."

"Alexander certainly was mad though, wasn't he?" another male asked. The flick of a cigarette lighter being struck sounded loud in the otherwise silent room.

The sound, along with the feeling of cobwebs brushing against her and something scurrying down Annabelle's arm caused her to cry out. William covered her mouth with his hand before anyone could hear her, almost as though he expected her to make a noise before she did.

"Ssh!" he hissed, his breath hot against her neck.

" – like he's here, does it?" one of the men was saying. "Usually he'd come out now, cackling and wanting a joke. Why he doesn't just take money is beyond me."

"I hear he doesn't like the Queen," the woman said. "Maybe he's some rich old eccentric who does this for fun. Whatever his reason, I'm certainly not asking him."

"Do we stay here and wait?"

"Maybe we should leave a note?"

The scent of cigarette smoke mingled with the smell of blood in the room. _Just leave! _Annabelle thought. _Sign a note or something and go!_

"If we don't hurry back, then Alexander might get angrier than he was. I can't believe he did that. He seemed like a rational sort of fellow."

"One of us could stay here and wait for Undertaker and the other two could go back and explain that he's not here."

"I'm not staying behind!" the woman said. The sounds of her shoes clacked against the floor as she stepped closer to the door. Before she could reach it, it flew open and in stepped Undertaker. "There you are!" the woman said. "We've got another one for you."

"How quick," Undertaker said, smiling his pointy smile. "Are you returning for this one then?" he asked.

"Give us a few days," one of the men told him, "no rush."

"I'd rather you not smoke in here," Undertaker said. Then, as casually as though he was simply commenting on the weather, he asked, "Do you have the rest of her?"

Something thumped against a hard surface. "In here," the other man replied. "Do you really need it?"

"I do my best," Undertaker said with a laugh. "Perhaps I could put her back together. If not, I would recommend you keep her casket closed."

He spoke for a few moments longer with the three of them before they left. Before moving the body, Undertaker called, "You can come out now."

Nearly knocking the caskets over in her haste, Annabelle bolted past them and William and out the door. William looked after her as she left before joining Undertaker near the body of a young woman, mid to late twenties he would guess. Her head was missing, contained inside a bloody basket sitting her body.

"Quite a temper than angel seems to have~! He's using something other than a dagger now." Undertaker picked up the basket and carried it to a curtained off room.

"Of course you would notice that," William replied as he waited for Undertaker to return. Together, the two of them lifted the body and carried it to another room beyond the main one.

"I knew you would notice that, Spears."

"A dagger would not sever her head from her neck so cleanly. He does use a sword but seems to favor his daggers."

"So you did come across him." Undertaker stated that as though he had suspected the two would meet. When William nodded, Undertaker showed no signs of surprise. "I'd be careful."

"We are."

With a bow to Undertaker, William left so Undertaker could start his work. He found Annabelle outside, doubled over with her hands on her knees, taking deep breaths. "Never – do that – again!" she gasped.

"I apologize," William said sincerely. "There was no other place to hide that they may have looked."

She did not reply to that. She merely straightened up and removed her suit jacket, shaking it a few times in order to rid it of any possible crawling creature. "I hope you got something from all that at least," she said as she put her jacket back on.

With a nod, he explained to her how the body had been. "Are you thinking what I am?" he asked.

"Well," Annabelle said, "I think it might be one of two things. Either he isn't making the progress he wants, or he's still angry we bested him."

"Did we really?" William asked.

"Well you didn't," she said, "you were on the ground looking for your glasses."

William did not respond to that. He knew she was simply teasing him but he was not in the mood for teasing. He was more interested in informing Bartholomew Daniels what they had seen and heard. Annabelle took his lack of reply as a signal that she could be quiet. Neither spoke as they returned to the Shinigami offices where the two of them split up. Annabelle went off to type up her letters of reflection while William headed straight to Bartholomew's office.

To his surprise, Bartholomew was not in his office. It would just have to wait.


	20. Chapter 20

_First Cut_

_I'm expecting this to wrap up within 2-3 chapters, including an epilogue kind of chapter. I hope this doesn't feel too rushed or anything. I may have something else to work on but I love this too. _

_Chapter 20_

William sat behind his desk, their list of collected souls in his hands. He had looked through it several times but something was not right. He just could not put his finger on it. Removing his glasses, he leaned back in his chair. It had gotten later than he had thought.

He put his glasses back on and debated on whether or not he should take the lists and go home when the door flew open.

Usually someone entering without knocking was either due to an emergency... or it was Grell. The redheaded reaper bounded over to William's desk. "Will~," he began, "I'm glad you're still here." He perched himself on the edge of William's desk and leaned back, his red hair spilling across William's papers.

"I have work to do Grell," William said, trying to free his papers from underneath Grell's hair.

Grell began to hum, ignoring William's attempts to retrieve his papers. "I thought you hated overtime," Grell said finally.

"I do," William told him. He was fighting the urge to use his scythe to shove Grell off his desk. "Now would you please leave?"

Grell instead chose to stretch out on his stomach on William's desk, kicking his legs in the air while propping his chin up on his hands. "How about we go find something fun to do~?" Grell suggested.

William finally gave in and shoved Grell off his desk. Grell unfortunately took the soul collection list William had been looking at with him as he fell from the desk and onto the floor.

"Such a cold man," Grell sighed from the floor.

William chose to ignore that remark as he leaned over his desk to look at the heap of red that lay in front of his desk. He sighed at the sight of papers spread around Grell. He would have to put them back in order after retrieving them. If Grell allowed that without his silly flirtatious games, of course.

A sudden thought occurred to William. "Grell!" he said, his tone commanding attention and seriousness.

Grell shot up in surprise, banging his head against the desk as he did. "What did I do now?" he wondered aloud.

"Give your death list."

"What?" Grell asked, not quite sure he had heard William correctly.

"Give me your death list," William repeated, holding his hand out for it.

Grell crawled away from the desk and out of William's reach, shaking his head. "Oh, no," he said, "it's completely finished. You're not going to get me another suspension!"

"Grell..." William began threateningly, taking a step towards Grell.

Grell pulled his list out from under his red jacket but clutched it to his chest. "Why do you want it?" he asked warily. But then he smiled. "What do I get if I give it to you?"

"You get the pleasure of not getting a pay cut," William told him. He ignored the spluttering from Grell, who was torn between trying to get something else out of William and avoiding a pay cut. William reached down and picked up the scattered pages from the floor and returned behind his desk. As he sat down, Grell slammed his list down on William's desk.

William thanked him and pulled the list towards himself. Grell stood behind William's chair, leaning over him to also study the lists. "I told you I completed it," Grell said with the smallest hint of a pout in his voice.

"Don't you see anything wrong?" William asked.

"Hmm?" Grell placed his hand on William's shoulder and leaned over him further. "It's just a list of names and dates," Grell remarked.

William frowned at the strand of red hair that hung in his face. "So nothing seems out of place to you?" William asked. The strand of hair swayed from side to side as Grell shook his head.

William pushed his chair back and grabbed his list. He would have to ask Annabelle her opinion in the morning. It was getting late, he was tired, and going home would more likely than not be the only way to rid himself of Grell for the night.

While he was tempted to lock Grell up in his office for the night, he knew it would be a bad idea. Not to mention he did not want to have to deal with Grell first thing in the morning. After shooing Grell out of his office, he shut and locked the door.

"I don't care what you do, Grell," he said as they walked down the hall together, "but I am calling it a night."

"Are you sure?" Grell asked. "We can always find something to do."

"Positive."

Grell sighed heavily. Outside, he and William went their separate ways. William still held onto his death list, thinking that if he could not sleep he would look it over again. By the time he reached his apartment, he wondered if Annabelle had gotten home safely. He could have kicked himself for getting so engrossed in pursuing the death lists.

The idea of checking on her crossed his mind. He dismissed it, certain he would see her in the morning and almost certain she would be asleep anyway. He would apologize in the morning.

After getting a shower and changing into his pajamas, he spread the death list before him on the bed. He still felt there was something wrong about the list but still could not point out what that was.

He piled the pages on the small table beside his bed and rested his glasses atop the stack of paper. He would ask Annabelle if she noticed anything different and would then turn it in. Before he drifted off to sleep, it suddenly clicked into place. Annabelle had been right before in saying that the lists seemed like they were smaller. There were gaps in the lists that only a Shinigami could create. Someone had been helping the angel.


	21. Chapter 21

_First Cut_

_I apologize if this is short. I have hopes it won't be. I also apologize for the cliffhanger ending. They may be mean but they're so fun to do!_

_Chapter 21_

After his realization the night before, William hardly slept. The thought of someone on their side helping an angel was unsettling. Trying to figure out who it could be kept him awake until the wee hours of the morning. But despite not getting much sleep, by the time he was dressed he had figured everything out.

The question was, how would he handle it?

As he knotted his tie, he decided to let things happen as they happened. Grabbing his scythe, he hurried out the door. He was never late and that was not going to change just because a Shinigami had betrayed them.

He found Annabelle waiting for him outside his office. Before she could greet him he had unlocked the door and hurried her inside. "I want to apologize for not walking you home last night."

"It's fine," Annabelle told him, "Ronald made sure I arrived home safely." She looked concerned. "I know you were busy. Is everything OK?"

"Not entirely. Something about the death lists bothered me and I finally understood last night. A Shinigami has been helping this angel."

"What?" Annabelle demanded. "How do you know?"

William put a finger to her lips and continued, "I want you to listen to me. Whatever I say, you do. If I tell you to hide, you do that. If I ask for your help, then I need it."

She nodded in understanding. "What are we going to do?"

"Come on," William said as they left his office. "Act like nothing is wrong. We're going to see Bartholomew. You stay right outside the door."

"Whatever you need," she said, following him down the hall. She clutched her scythe but leaned casually against the wall across from the door as William knocked. After he entered Bartholomew's office, she glanced down each end of the hall. '_I hope he knows what he's doing,' _she thought.

"William, what brings you here so early?" Bartholomew asked, standing up to greet William.

"I think I have discovered something you won't like," William told him, choosing not to sit down.

Bartholomew returned to his chair and asked, "What would that be?"

William pulled his death list from inside his suit jacket and laid it on the desk between them. "There are missing entries," he said. "Entries that only a Shinigami could remove from a death list before it has been typed."

Bartholomew raised an eyebrow, staring intently at William. "You think one of ours is helping this angel?" he demanded. "William, that's quite the accusation to make. Just because you feel there are missing entries on your list does not mean that there are."

"Grell's list was also missing an entry or two. Not to mention, how could we possibly miss these souls? Someone has to be tampering with our information."

"Who could do that?" William asked. "Other than someone who works here. Something with a great deal of authority here."

Bartholomew stood quickly, his chair flying out from under him and hitting the wall behind him. "You dare accuse members of my staff of treachery?" he asked, his voice rising.

"Yes, I do," William said, his tone calm.

"This isn't like you William. I think you're focus has shifted."

"Oh don't blame Annabelle," William replied. "She hasn't changed anything. Or was that your reason for putting her with me?"

"I had no reason for putting her with you other than to get someone who did not belong behind a typewriter to realize her potential!"

Outside the office, the raised voices were concerning Annabelle and drawing attention. A few reapers had joined her outside the door, including Ronald and Grell. Several others would occasionally glance at the door while pretending that the argument coming from inside the office did not catch their attention.

"What's going on?" Ronald asked Annabelle, who could only shrug in response. "Bartholomew sounds pretty angry."

Keeping her voice low so only Grell and Ronald could hear, she whispered, "William says the death lists have been tampered with. He believes a Shinigami is helping that angel."

"That can't be possible!" Ronald exclaimed. Annabelle shushed him, knowing that if word got around before William wanted it to, she would most likely find out how furious William could get.

Over her head, Grell and Ronald exchanged looks. From the sounds of the arguing inside the office, William might have been on the wrong track. They would have to wait and see how everything turned out.

"You're getting flustered," William told his boss. His tone was still calm but he was finding it difficult to stay that way.

"Why shouldn't I be? You have no right, Spears!"

William stepped closer to Bartholomew and said, "A Shinigami in power, someone who has the right to come and go freely without excuses. Someone who can remove names from the death lists due to access to all areas of the building, anytime day or not. Someone who is getting very, very nervous." With a smirk, William said, "That someone is you."


	22. Chapter 22

_First Cut_

_I'm sorry again for the cliffhanger. And I'm sorry that this is winding up. Just this chapter and an epilogue left! I am also knocking the rating up to T due to this chapter. I don't know if it really needs it but I feel safer having it on T._

_No kiss, but I think a couple of sweet moments._

_Chapter 22_

Bartholomew narrowed his eyes at William. "You would accuse me," he began, his voice cold, "of working alongside an _angel_? Tell me, why would I do such a thing?"

"That's what I wish to know."

Without answering, Bartholomew grabbed his death scythe, a long curved sickle, and swung at William, who ducked it easily. "You do realize," Bartholomew said, taking another swing, "that there are dozens of Shinigami here who would take my word over yours? All they have to do is see you attacking a superior..."

William blocked the next bow with his own scythe. "Are you positive about that?" he asked. "Do you really think you have idiots in your employ?"

Bartholomew swung his scythe at William, dodged as William struck back, and slipped under his arm. Flinging open the door, he raced outside.

"Stop him!" The sight of a high-ranking Shinigami trying to avoid another Shinigami's attacks was something that no reaper had seen, but William's tone meant business.

Grell did not need to be told twice. He chased after William and Bartholomew, sending reapers leaping for cover. After exchanging a glance, Ronald and Annabelle hurried after Grell.

Once outside, Bartholomew leaped to the roof of a nearby building, hoping to lose William by leaping from rooftop to rooftop. William was right behind, as was Grell. Ronald and Annabelle were only slightly behind Grell. The chase lead from one roof to another, with humans below watching the reapers with confusion and interest.

William extended his scythe in an attempt to knock Bartholomew off the roof. He missed only by an inch. He glanced back at the reapers giving chase, wondering where exactly he would go. The only answer was to Alexander. He was going to be furious, but the two of them could better handle the problem at hand.

The chase led to an old church outside of London. It seemed deserted. The small graveyard beside it was nearly overgrown with weeds. Several fresh graves had been dug but sat empty. The church itself looked decent, the paint was not peeling but one of the stained glass windows was broken. The bell had gone missing from the belfry, but that did not hinder use of the church.

Almost like he was expecting them, Alexander stood waiting in the doorway of the church. He jumped down from the steps and landed in front of Bartholomew. "You dare lead your reapers here?" he demanded. "I should kill you myself but from the looks of it, they want the honor."

"They found out I've been working for you," Bartholomew spat. "You have to help me with this problem!"

Alexander looked beyond Bartholomew to the four reapers waiting to make a move. "Very well," he began, a plan forming in his head. He would let the reapers destroy each other. If that did not happen and Bartholomew was victorious against them, he would be the one to kill him. "Surely you can handle that one," he said, inclining his head towards Annabelle.

In order to separate the four of them, Alexander threw a handful of daggers, causing them to scatter. Bartholomew rushed after Annabelle, the two of them heading for the cemetery. Alexander casually removed his tail coat, drew his sword, and hurried for the male reapers.

With tombstones crumbling under her feet, Annabelle dodged every effort Bartholomew made in hitting her. "Why would you do something like this?" she asked, panting slightly as used her scythe to block his.

"Do you have any idea," he began, "how many stupid humans I have had to reap over the years? They cannot handle their own day to day lives!"

"So you choose to side with an angel to kill them?" she asked.

"I choose to ally with an angel to _help _them!" He dealt a heavy blow that avoided by cartwheeling away. His scythe instead struck a stone angel, shattering the delicate old statue to pieces.

"Ha!" she scoffed. "Holding them down and killing them is your idea of help?"

"_Alexander _chose how they died, not me!" A quick strike from the left surprised Annabelle. She did a back flip to avoid it but his scythe cut into her leg.

She sucked in a quick breath through clenched teeth. How could she have been so foolish? She landed among the coarse grass trying to determine how badly she had been injured. She was not sure if her leg would handle her weight but she could not lay there like an easy target.

Before she could even sit up, several stray white feathers flew past her face. Alexander was using his wings to send several feathers towards his three opponents. She nearly laughed out loud when she heard Grell shout, "Not the face!"

Rolling out of the way, she avoided a killing blow. For a moment or two, Bartholomew's scythe was stuck in the ground. With her uninjured leg, she kicked out, hitting Bartholomew's shin. He staggered and tumbled into an open grave.

Annabelle grabbed her scythe and used it to help her support herself as she got to her feet. She was wobbly but standing. Bartholomew jumped from the grave with ease, landing in front of her. With one look at her bloody leg and wobbling stance, he used his scythe to knock her against an old mausoleum. He stood over her, his scythe raised over his head.

A shout from Grell caught their attention, along with a howl of pain from Alexander. Despite the situation they were in, both Annabelle and Bartholomew glanced over in the direction of the noise. A white feathery angel wing lay on the ground, having been cut off by Grell, who was doing some sort of celebratory jumping dance.

_'Better take the chance when I've got it,' _Annabelle thought as she picked up her scythe from where it had fallen beside her. Using the strength she could muster, she threw it has hard as she could. Her aim was good enough to do what she had intended. Her scythe went through Bartholomew's chest. He stumbled and fell next to her. Annabelle winced as he reached a shaking hand towards his glasses. They had fallen off and landed close by. Dragging herself to her feet, she used her good leg to step on them.

"You don't deserve to wear them," she hissed. She removed her scythe from the dying Shinigami's chest and used it as a cane to hobble towards the cemetery gate.

Losing a wing seemed to have enraged Alexander. Grell was dueling scythe to sword with Alexander as William helped Ronald to his feet. Once Ronald was up, the two of them rushed Alexander. He was taken by surprise for a moment or two but threw a dagger into Ronald's death scythe. The lawn mower he used jammed.

William and Grell held the angel off as Ronald removed the dagger and threw it back towards Alexander. It struck his remaining wing and embedded itself there. After an attempt to shake it loose, Alexander ignored it. He swung his sword at William, who avoided the attack and kicked Alexander aside.

Alexander was back on his feet within seconds. "You reapers," he growled, " are such annoyances!"

"You angels aren't?" William asked.

With a shout, Alexander dove at William, knocking him off his feet. He landed on the Shinigami, his knees pinning William down. Before he could withdraw a dagger, Grell kicked him off William. Ronald returned the favor, pulling William back to his feet as Grell chased after Alexander.

The sound of metal breaking echoed throughout the churchyard. Ronald, William, and Annabelle looked towards the sound. Grell's scythe had managed to shatter the blade of Alexander's sword. He sat panting on the ground, encircled by William, Grell, and Ronald.

"What do you plan to do now?" William asked.

Alexander's eyes narrowed to lilac slits. He knew what William meant. Without his sword, he just had his daggers. But he was also wounded. With one dagger left he decided to not let the reapers have the satisfaction of finishing him. He plunged the dagger into his own stomach, slitting it across horizontally. He crumpled on the ground, trying to keep himself as dignified as he could.

Annabelle tried her best to join them. At the sound of her approach, the three of them looked away from Alexander and towards her.

The four reapers took the time to look each other over. William, Ronald, and Grell were bleeding from from the feathery attacks on Alexander's part. Grell's red coat had been torn in a few places, as had William and Ronald's suits. Other than that, and a few other cuts, scrapes, and dirt from getting knocked down, they seemed none the worse for wear.

"What happened?" William asked Annabelle. She leaned against him and explained what had occurred in the graveyard.

"So, Bartholomew was behind this too?" Ronald asked. "Sounds like he was losing it to me."

"My thoughts exactly," Annabelle muttered. "I guess we had better get back and explain ourselves."

"Can you walk?" William asked gently.

"I can try."

"Nonsense," he said. He picked her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her head against his chest. "This will be easier."

Later that night, Annabelle lay dozing in the small infirmary. While rarely required, it was available for reapers who needed it. The sound of approaching footsteps woke her from her slumber. William placed his hand on her arm. "I'm awake," she told him.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

She smiled. "Yes, I should be up and going soon."

"Good."

"William? Would you stay?" Annabelle moved over on the bed, allowing him some room to join her. To her surprise, he stretched out on the bed next to her. With a content sigh, she curled up in his arms. "Good night," she murmured.

"Good night," William replied.


	23. Chapter 23

_First Cut_

_This is my short little epilogue, just to show that all is well, so to speak. I have a few things to tinker with but you guys will see me again soon. Will and Annabelle too. :) And Abigail._

_Chapter 23_

It took some time for the Shinigami to accept that Bartholomew Daniels had been helping an angel. While trying to regain a sense of normalcy, the higher ups appointed Phillip Ashford to Bartholomew's former position.

Grell was enjoy the fact that he had "saved William's life" in his words. He would often remind William of this fact, but he received no form of thanks to his disappointment. Ronald was enjoying the praise he received from his female friends in the General Affairs department. William and Annabelle were trying their best to lay low, eager for everything to blow over.

Annabelle continued to work with William as her leg healed. She left the reaping to him and handled the paperwork herself.

One afternoon shortly after the fight with Alexander and Bartholomew, she found herself sitting atop a chimney as William stood next to her, searching for the person next listed on their death list. A question had been on her mind since she had begun to recover. Finally, the question managed to work itself out.

"Are you going back to working on your own?" she asked.

"Now why would I do that?" William asked, not taking his eyes from the street below.

"Because I'm doing much better. In fact I could probably do this by myself but _somebody _seems to want me to take things easy for a little while longer."

"Who would this someone be?" William was trying his best not to smile. Annabelle sighed behind him and pulled out the death list, ignoring his question.

"What time do you have?" Annabelle asked.

"A quarter after three," William replied, his tone casual.

Reviewing the list, she said, "Well he'll be along in a few minutes. I'm assuming from the east."

He thanked her and jumped down from the roof. Annabelle rose to her feet and stretched. It had been a shame that Bartholomew decided to abandon them for an angel, especially since he seemed tired of dealing with humans. But in a way Annabelle was sorry he had to die. He had, after all, been the one to decide to place her with William. She would not fault him for that.

Nearly allowing them to be killed by an angel, though, was something she could blame him for. How could anyone do such a thing? Annabelle could only shake her head. It was not her place to figure out what happened.

She looked up as William rejoined her on the roof. Without a word, she pulled out the list and marked the entry _Completed. _She skimmed down the list and said, "We need to be outside of London by four."

"Then let's go."

Annabelle smiled as he put his arm around her shoulders and allowed him to hold he as they jumped from the rooftop. "I can walk," she told him.

"I know."

Annabelle smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck. While things had been hectic since she left her typewriter behind, she certainly would not complain. There would be no going back to it.


End file.
